


The Robin Who Forgot How To Fly

by Evergreena



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dick Grayson is Robin, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Mild Language, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Set mid-season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2021-04-12
Packaged: 2021-04-21 20:47:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 79,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22112053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evergreena/pseuds/Evergreena
Summary: When Robin's memory is wiped clean, he teams up with various villains to try to figure out who he once was - and who he wants to be.
Relationships: Barbara Gordon & Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Wally West
Comments: 50
Kudos: 143





	1. Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first fanfic I ever started writing, and YEARS LATER I've finished it and can actually start to post it! WOOHOO!

**Part 1 - Eggshells**

** _“Sweet dreams are winging…”_ **

Pain spread from the burning point in the center of his forehead. It traveled through him like a lighted gunpowder fuse, until his whole body shook with spasms. He fell heavily to his knees on the rocky ground. “No!” he screamed, desperately trying to hold on to his training. _Breathe, focus your thoughts, empty your emotions, keep the invisible mental walls strong._ But the searing cracks in his defense multiplied until he was pushing back with nothing but a sandcastle wall. The destructive wave slipped through his every attempt to hold it back. Emptiness tore through his mind.

One last echo of a mother’s lullaby, and then… nothing at all.

He opened his eyes. Tears blurred his vision of the night. He shook his head, trying to clear the confusion, the headache. Then he saw it.

A huge black shadow loomed above him, cloaked in a tattered cloth. The creature’s horns jabbed above its empty white gaze. It reached for him with a clawlike hand.

Pure adrenaline burst through his body, causing his heart to stutter and race. He drew back, scrabbling against the uneven rocks beneath him. A small whimper escaped his lips in his terror.

In answer, the dark horror leaned back and roared a wordless bellow, its arms tensing with raw strength.

Hearing the rage in that horrible sound, the boy bolted to his feet. He looked around wildly, trying to make out any detail in the darkness. The ruins of an ancient wall blocked his escape behind him. He trembled against the moss-covered stones. Strange animal noises echoed in the night.

Suddenly, a pack of snarling beasts leaped out from the trees beyond. He yelled and cowered by his wall, covering his head, but the creatures ignored him and attacked the dark shadow instead, tearing at it and snapping. The twisted form writhed under the beasts, inhuman roars of anguish drowned out by the beasts’ yips and strange howls that sounded almost like taunting laughter.

The boy stumbled along the wall a few steps, then turned and soundlessly fled into the forest away from the fight, the eerie laughter, and the terrifying emptiness in his mind.

***

_Where am I?_ A cacophony of unfamiliar birdsongs rang in his ears as he stirred from a deep sleep. When he opened his eyes, he saw bright green leaves above him. A drop of water splattered on his forehead, and he sat up suddenly, almost toppling into thin air. He steadied himself against a branch. He laughed in shock. Somehow, he’d gotten himelf wedged into the crook of a tree high in the jungle canopy, more than fifty feet off the ground.

“How did I get up here?” he said aloud. His voice was gravelly and a bit sore as if he’d been yelling the night before.

He barely remembered his terrified flight in the darkness, desperate to get away from those creatures and that… thing. He shuddered. His head throbbed still, but the pain had faded to a dull ache. He rubbed his forehead, trying to remember how he’d climbed the tree, but it was all a blur.

That’s when he realized he had a much more important question to ask himself.

He looked down at his clothing. A black, red, and yellow suit, a belt with pouches, gloves, and a short, tattered cape. The remains of some kind of electronic gadget was embedded in his gauntlet. It looked like it had been smashed. He poked at it, but it didn’t seem to work. _Of all the strange things…_ He touched his face and discovered something over his eyes, adhered to his skin. “Seriously, a mask?”

He leaned back against the trunk of the tree. What was with the mask? Was he some kind of thief? He felt surprisingly calm, considering that he had no idea who the heck he was. He would remember. He’d just gotten bumped on the head or something. “It’ll come back in a minute,” he told himself.

He waited. He observed the jungle below from his high perch. The forest floor was obscured by large fern-like plants. He watched birds fly around the canopy. Rain dripped off the leaves above, plopped on his hair and plastered it to his skull. He waited for what felt like an hour. Nothing came back to him.

The rain gradually stopped, and biting flies started to come out and buzz around his head. At last he sighed. It was time to move.

He carefully found his way down the tree. He was amazed to find footholds quickly in the vines and moss that covered the smooth bark. He found that he had no fear of heights, which he was glad about.

On the ground again, he felt exposed and vulnerable. The tree had given him a sense of security, at least.

What to do? He had no idea, but he didn’t belong here. The jungle was obviously not his home. For one thing, if he were a jungle-dweller, he definitely wouldn’t be wearing red, black, and yellow. Amid all the green, he would be easily spotted. With the strange get-up he was in… “I’m probably a burglar or something,” he muttered. “Gloves? Check. Identity-hiding mask? Check. And whatever this stuff is.” He rummaged in the pouches on his belt and found a grand assortment of weapons, tools, and gadgets. “Yeah, definitely thinking burglar right now.”

He touched the significant “R” symbol on his chest. “Now what could you stand for?” he wondered. “Rocky? Do I look like a Rocky?” He flexed his muscles, then shrugged. “Or maybe I’m Ranger Rick?”

He should find water and food as soon as possible, so he picked a direction and started walking. The underbrush was thick, but he managed to find a faint trail, probably made by animals. He continued to muse as he walked. “Rebel. Rex. Rider. Roomba.”

His ears picked up the faint sound of running water, and he realized how thirsty he was. He ducked under a low hanging frond and picked up the pace. "Ryan. Reginald. Roland. Rap. Maybe I'm a rapper." He was about to test his theory by composing a little rap right there, but before he could, something rustled in the bushes in front of him. He stopped, crouching automatically. He discovered his hand had moved to his belt of its own accord. Huh.

A small rusty-red critter swooped out of the bush and careened right at his face. He dodged more quickly than he knew he could. The red blur came to rest on a branch behind him. He saw that it was a tropical songbird, chirping angrily at him. Jeez. Maybe he’d gotten too close and disturbed its nest or something. “Red,” he said softly. “Rage.” The bird cocked its head as if listening, then flew away. It reminded him of another kind of bird. “Robin,” he said out loud, trying it on for size. He shook his head. “Nah, that’s dumb.”

He continued on the path, hoping that it would lead him to the water source he could hear. “Roberto. Robbie. Robber.” He paused. “Rob.” Something felt right about it. Hey, if he really was a thief of some kind… “Rob the robber,” he said. “Yup. That’s gotta be it.” He didn’t believe that was actually his name, but he had to call himself something, after all, and it was as good a name as any. His memory didn’t seem to be in any hurry to return to him, so he’d have to make do.

Armed with a new name, Rob marched forward with more purpose in his step. The sound of water seemed to be gradually getting louder, which was a good sign. But as he walked, he began to hear other things as well. Voices. Boots stomping through the undergrowth. And they were coming closer.

Curious, he left the path. He headed toward the new sounds, careful not to step on any noisy twigs.

He could sense that it would be dangerous to reveal himself too soon, so he crept along in silence. He found it was quite easy to avoid making excess noise, actually. The voices grew louder, so he crouched behind some of the undergrowth and waited for them to approach.

They weren’t being quiet about it. It sounded like herd of wild oxen ploughing through the jungle. Adrenaline pumped through him again, reminding him of the horrible black shadow he had encountered last night. What was that thing, anyway? He shuddered involuntarily. The sound it made had been so inhuman, so full of malice.

“I don’t know, man. The boss said he’d be out here somewhere, so we gotta find him.”

“Why didn’t he send those beasts after him, then? Why do we got to do all the boring stuff?”

“Cause you complained last time he made you fight, dunce.”

Two men appeared from behind a tree. They were both brutish, well-armed with guns and other weapons, and they looked annoyed. Mosquitoes swarmed around their sweaty heads. The man who was holding a metal crowbar groaned. “We might as well give up and go back already. There’s no one out here! The boss is crazy, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, but at least he pays well, so shut up about that.”

Rob puzzled over this argument. Who were they looking for? Were they trying to find _him?_ And if so, why?

“Let’s just go a little further, and then we’ll turn back.”

“You turn back if you like. The boss ain’t gonna like it, I’m telling you. I’m gonna find the little whelp and get my payment.”

They turned toward Rob’s hiding place, and he quietly started to back away, afraid they’d see the bright red of his suit.

“I don’t see why the boss doesn’t just go after Batman. This is a waste of time, if you ask me.”

“Nobody asked you, so shut it!”

Batman? Rob wondered what that meant. Some kind of code word?

Then he heard the awful laughing sound, the same one he’d heard the night before. He froze in terror.

The two men stiffened. “Sounds like the boss let the beasts loose,” muttered the complaining one. “Why he thinks hyenas are gonna be any good in this jungle…”

_Hyenas?_ Rob stumbled, rustling some leaves.

“What was that?” the duty-bound thug hissed.

The two men surged forward through the ferns and saw him standing there. “That’s him! That’s the kid!” They lunged for him.

Rob jumped back. He had no idea what they wanted with him, but somehow he didn’t think they wanted a group hug. Raw instinct told him to run. He did so, though he still didn’t know where he was going. As he ran, he felt a burst of pure glee that came from out of nowhere. He allowed it to bubble up into a cackle that echoed among the trees.

He ducked under some low fronds and saw that a huge fallen log blocked his way. He was running too fast! He wouldn’t be able to stop or change direction in time—

Without thinking about how he did it, he vaulted over the huge tree and landed on the other side, ending in a graceful somersault. He gasped and picked himself up, amazed at what he’d just done. At the sound of his pursuers’ boots crunching leaves and plants behind him, he quickly resumed his flight.

He could hear the yips and laughing noises of the hyenas coming closer as well. What kind of freak used hyenas to hunt people down? He really wished he could remember who was after him and why. Did he commit some sort of crime? Was he in a gang? And why was he in the jungle of all places?

A sudden yowl startled him. The hyenas were close now. He looked around as he ran, hoping to find some kind of hiding place. As he glanced at the trees and ferns, he felt like he was being watched. Had the hyenas already caught up to him?

He ran into a small clearing with some boulders and smaller trees. He leaped onto a large boulder and looked behind him, listening carefully. Something rustled, and he found himself climbing the nearest tree. His body was moving automatically, even though he didn’t know what good climbing would do. Once the hyenas caught up to him, they’d keep him from coming down until the hunters arrived.

But in a moment, he was in the upper branches. He looked down just as four hyenas burst into the clearing below. They circled the boulder and the tree he was in.

“Stupid!” he muttered to himself. “Now those creeps will catch up to me.”But as he surveyed the area, his mind instantly began coming up with escape options and playing them out rapid-fire.

Running would be suicide. Staying in the tree could end badly as well, depending on what these people wanted with him, and he didn’t feel like sticking around to find out. Maybe he had something he could use as a distraction. He stuck a hand in a pouch on his belt and pulled out a handful of disc-like gadgets. He fingered them, trying to figure out what they were for. He pressed a button on one of them, and a high-pitched whine filled the air, and an LED blinked rapidly. His eyes widened. That couldn’t be good. He quickly dropped it.

The device fell to the ground at the base of the tree. A few of the hyenas prowled toward it, sniffing the air and growling. He leaned out over the group, trying to see what—

A sudden explosion erupted from the device. Flames billowed out from it, scorching one of the hyenas. The tree he sat in shook violently, and he grabbed the trunk to catch his balance.

Smoke filled the clearing, obscuring everything. Rob looked down at the other discs in his hand. There were half a dozen left. He grinned. “So that’s what they do!”

With this fortunate turn of events, he needed to reassess the situation. Three hyenas remained in the clearing, and they were mad now. He activated another exploding disc and threw it directly at the largest of the pack. The disc hit it square between the eyes and bounced off. Another explosion rocked the clearing, taking the hyena down. He threw one more disc at the two remaining beasts. They yipped and turned to flee as it sent more sudden flames and smoke in hot clouds after them.

Rob sat back against the tree trunk, satisfied at his work. He replaced the remaining discs in his utility belt. They would probably be needed later.

He jumped out of the tree and rolled in the ferns. The hyenas might avoid him after that noisy encounter, but those thugs were still out there looking for him. He glanced at the sky. The moist haze in the air blocked his view of the sun, so he couldn’t tell what time it was. Probably early afternoon.

He shook his head. Why did that matter? He had no idea who or what he was, and his mind was trying to figure out what the time was based on the _position of the sun_? What kind of nerd even cared about stuff like that?

He heard shouts behind him. He quickly ducked into the shadows of the forest, and the hazy sky was lost to him again. He had to find water. He had been running too long without it, and the sweat that beaded up on his skin was a sure sign that he was losing fluids. _Gotta find that river I heard earlier,_ he told himself. He made a mental map in his head, with the approximate route he’d taken in his flight. He adjusted his course slightly to compensate.

He was finally rewarded with the sound of fast-running water. He slowed to a jog. His muscles felt a bit shaky after his flight, signaling a slight drop in blood sugar. Not only did he need water, he also guessed that it had been at least two full days since he’d eaten anything.

He stumbled out of the ferns and stopped at the bank of the small river he’d heard earlier. Finally one problem solved. He knelt at the river’s edge and cupped his hands in the tepid water to get a drink. He tried not to think about microbes and amoebae. He didn’t really have a choice but to risk it.

A branch rustled behind him and he whirled around, his wet hands on his belt again. The two thugs he’d avoided earlier crashed out of the undergrowth, red-faced and panting slightly.

Rob backed up, stepping into the water as he reached for his explosives, already planning another escape. He never got the chance. Some water must have dribbled down his wrist, because suddenly the smashed device on his wrist sparked and popped, short-circuiting. The exposed wires zapped him and he jolted from the white-hot electricity that shocked through his body. His heart stuttered. He fell to the bank, gasping, his feet still immersed in the water. His wrist steamed from the sudden burst of sparks.

“Wait ’til the boss hears about this!” laughed one of the men as they approached him. “You’re going to come with us, kiddo.”

Rob grimaced. Not if he had anything to do with it. He rolled to the side and swept a leg out, knocking one of the thugs off balance. The man fell heavily.

But the other thug was ready for this, and grabbed his shoulders. He was a bigger man, too heavy to flip. Rob shook his head. How did he know how to flip someone? He struggled against the man’s grip, trying to find a weak point, but he was just too strong.

“I got him,” said the big man. “Now what?”

“Jab ‘im with the stuff,” the grounded man wheezed, getting to his feet again. “We’ll carry him back to the boss.”

Rob’s eyes widened behind his mask as the big thug freed his right arm and pulled out a small syringe. He strained and kicked at the man’s shins, but to no avail. The thug patiently continued to uncap the syringe.

“You’re going to want to let me go,” Rob said in what he hoped was a threatening tone.

The big guy ignored him, and the other thug sneered. “Yeah, right. And let the boss tear into us for losing you again? I don’t think so.”

A sharp prick bit into his neck. Rob turned to see the bigger thug removing the empty syringe. Then he let go. Rob wavered on his now-unsteady feet.

“Sweet dreams, kiddo,” said the sneering thug.

He didn’t even remember hitting the ground.


	2. Ruins

**Wally**

“I don’t know why Batman hasn’t contacted us yet,” M'gann said.

Wally looked up from his handheld game, frowning. The Martian twisted her fingers together in repeating motions as he watched in silence.

The rest of the team stirred from the various places in the bioship where they’d been resting for the last twelve hours, waiting for their next orders on how to proceed. Some of them had slept, catching up on some much-needed rest. Not Wally. He’d been fighting panic attacks all night as he relived his big mistake again and again. His mobile game system was the only thing that could distract him even a little bit.

Aqualad stood. “Batman said he would not be in contact at all until he found where they were keeping Robin,” he said solemnly.

They all knew what that meant. Robin was still in danger. Superboy’s fists clenched visibly, and Wally thought it was probably taking all his self control not to punch the wall of M'gann’s ship. Artemis perched on an organic, curving bunk bed set into a recess on the wall. She hugged her knees. They all sat in silence for a long moment. 

Wally snapped his goggles on. “That’s it. We’re going after them.”

“No.” Aqualad slowly shook his head. “Our orders were clear.”

Wally grinned. “Since when did ‘orders’ ever stop us? C’mon, we’ve got to find Rob.” His grin faltered. “I’ve got to find him.”

Artemis jumped down from the top bunk. She picked up her bow and inspected it automatically, avoiding looking at him directly. “Don’t you think Batman knows what he’s doing? He’ll call us, don’t worry.”

“Right, if he runs into the same trouble Robin did, he’s gonna call a bunch of teenagers for help,” Wally scoffed. “He’ll totally trust us after we let his partner down. It’s not like I just handed Robin over to his worst enemy or anything. Of course he’ll trust us.”

“Wally, stop it,” Artemis said. She jabbed him in the side with her bow. “Stop blaming yourself.”

“But if I hadn’t messed up—“

“Any of us could have made the same mistake,” Aqualad said. “It is not your fault.”

“Yeah, right,” Wally said. He shrugged away from M'gann’s sympathetic hand on his shoulder. He turned away, lowering his voice so that it was barely a whisper. “You didn’t see the look on his face.” He knew Dick wouldn’t actually blame him when all this was over, but he _should._

Superboy cracked his knuckles, drawing everyone’s attention. “Well?” he said, looking to Aqualad. “I say we go out anyway.”

Wally held his breath while Kaldur considered. Their leader seemed troubled by the situation. Wally realized in that moment that Kaldur knew something that the rest of them didn’t. “What?” Wally demanded. “What’s wrong? What are you keeping from us?”

Kaldur shook his head. “Just something Batman mentioned. I thought it was insignificant at the time, but now I am not so certain.”

“Care to fill us in?” Conner growled. “Or is this another one of those secrets you can’t share?” He gritted his teeth and looked defiantly at their leader.

Kaldur’s frown deepened. He put a calming hand on Superboy’s arm. “No. I will tell you. Batman hinted that this was a set up. Robin was not taken randomly. He was targeted specifically so that Batman would come.”

“But why? And why the heck won’t Batman let us help?” Wally felt his eyes grow hot beneath his goggles. Crap. The last thing he needed was for his eyes to get watery. He took a shaky breath, trying to force himself to stay calm.

“I believe,” Kaldur said uncertainly, “that Batman has been distracted lately. He is good at hiding it, but I think there is a larger plan in play, and the Joker is involved somehow. He wants something from Batman.”

“So,” Artemis said, “if Batman and Robin aren’t back yet…”

M'gann covered her mouth with her hands. “You think the Joker got what he wanted?”

Kaldur did not answer. He checked to make sure his water bearers were secured to his back, then looked up at them solemnly.

“We’re going after them, after all, aren’t we?” Wally said, hope struggling to rise in his chest.

“Yes. You are right. They have been gone too long without any word. We must find our lost teammate… and Batman.”

***

Ten minutes later, they’d exited the cloaked bioship and entered the jungle, heading toward the coordinates where they’d last heard from Batman hours ago. They linked up mentally as soon as they went outside, so they wouldn’t have to worry about speaking out loud, even when they spread out so that they couldn’t see each other.

Wally zipped ahead of the others. He felt a sense of urgency he hadn’t felt in a long time. This mission wasn’t a simple reconnaissance mission anymore. So much had happened in the last three days. Was it really only three days ago that Batman had debriefed them on the mission? It seemed like at least a week had passed since he’d seen his friend…

“Stupid,” he said automatically, muttering to himself.

_Wally,_ M'gann said in his head. _What’s wrong?_

_Nothing._ They wouldn’t understand. They didn’t know Robin like he did. They didn’t know Dick Grayson. Of _course_ the kid would trade himself for a friend, even when the Joker was involved. Why hadn’t he seen it coming? He sighed, looking around at the endless green foliage. _Nothing at all._

_Liar._ Wally could hear the faint smirk in Artemis’ tone, even through the mental link. He chose not to respond.

It had been such a simple mission! Why couldn’t it have stayed that way?

Wally thought back to the debriefing. Batman had just arrived with Robin, and everyone else was still a little sleepy, due to the early hour. Wally, however, had already had a whole pot of coffee (diluted with milk and sugar, of course), so he was a bit more, ahem, awake.

_“This mission is only a survey of an alleged hideout of Sportsmaster. We’ve had a report that he’s up to something big, and we want to know what it is.” Batman looked up at the screen, where holographic images were being projected. A photograph of Sportsmaster, a map showing the jungle’s terrain, and an image of a ruined temple that sprawled across a wide area. “We think he’s hiding here, somewhere in the remnant of this ancient Mayan temple. Several hovercraft and helicopters have been seen in this area. There is a possibility he is preparing for an attack. An anonymous threat has been made to the nearest city. It could be unrelated, but I want you to find out for sure. ”_

_Wally grinned at Robin and jabbed him a few times with his elbow, rapid-fire._

_Robin expertly twisted out of reach, then bent Wally’s arm behind his back._

_“Ow ow ow!” Wally hissed, trying not to make too much noise and risk Batman’s anger at being interrupted._

_Robin held him there and whispered, “No crazy stunts that will get you noticed, ‘kay?”_

_Wally grunted, and Robin let his arm go. He shook it to get the kinks out and glared at his friend. Just because he had failed on their first spying mission and landed in front of a whole troupe of enemy soldiers didn’t mean that he couldn't be stealthy. Well, maybe not as stealthy as Batman, but still. It stung._

_Batman ignored the two and continued giving instructions. “Do not engage the enemy. I repeat, do not engage. This is only a reconnaissance mission. Observe and report. If you come across anything unexpected, alert me immediately. Is that clear?” He looked to Aqualad, who nodded solemnly._

_“We will not let you down.”_

Aaaand that promise had absolutely been broken. Wally shook his head, forcing his thoughts back to searching the jungle again.

_I’ve found a larger portion of ruins, some distance from where Robin was taken, _Superboy said over the mental link. _There was definitely another fight here._

The team quickly joined him. Wally skidded to a stop and stared at the temple. The broken piles of bricks smoked faintly, as if a fire had been burning there recently. There was also some debris - what looked like pieces of black and yellow fabric, and places where bricks had been blown apart by something.

“Guys,” Artemis said, her voice strangely tight. She was standing in one corner of the ruins, looking at the ground.

They gathered around her to see what she was looking at.

M'gann paled. “Is that… Oh my.”

Wally bent down. There was blood splattered all over the stones, darkened to a rusty brown. Some of it had obviously washed away in the misty jungle rain, but there was still a lot there.

“Do not jump to conclusions,” Aqualad said. “The blood could belong to anyone.”

Artemis nodded automatically and turned away. “I just wonder…” She traced the spots of blood backwards. “There’s a trail.”

Wally zipped to her side. “Careful. We don’t know what caused this person to bleed so much.”

She glanced at him sidelong. “It’s fine, Baywatch.”

“All we know is that there was a fight,” Aqualad said. “But who was fighting whom? And who won?”

Wally winced, knowing that Robin would be all over this with his detective mind whirring at light speed. All that Wally could do was stare at the evidence blankly.

Artemis, who had traced the trail back to the main part of the temple ruins, called them over. “I think this is Robin’s cape, or part of it at least.” She picked up a tattered piece of fabric.

The others fell silent. It was definitely Robin’s.

Artemis looked around at them. “What should we do?”

“Nothing.” Something moved in the ruins near them, causing M'gann to jump in the air, and Superboy to fall into a fighting stance. Artemis drew her bow. The whole team stared into the deep shadows.

“Who’s there?” Superboy growled. “Show yourself!”

The shadow stepped into the patchy sunlight.

Batman.

Wally gasped. “Where’s Robin? Did you find him? Who was bleeding? Why didn’t you contact us? What should we—“

Batman held up a gloved hand, silencing him. “The Joker got away.”

“And Robin?”

“Gone.”

Wally’s heart lurched. “What do you mean, ‘gone?’ Was he captured?”

Batman strode between them, limping slightly. Wally realized that his suit and cape were torn, revealing bleeding cuts in several places. Was it Batman’s blood everywhere? Batman took the scrap of Robin’s cape from Artemis, handling it gently. He looked down at it, saying nothing.

“Well? What’s the plan to get him back?” Wally demanded. “The longer we sit around, the longer—“

“No,” Batman said firmly. “There’s nothing you can do. Robin is no more.”

Wally staggered backwards as if he’d been physically struck. “_What?_”

The rest of the team was just as shocked. Artemis sank down to sit on a rock. M'gann held both hands over her mouth. Superboy looked ready to fight Batman, but Aqualad held him back.

“What do you mean?” he asked. Wally wondered how he could keep his voice steady and calm in a moment like this.

Batman did not move. “Just as I said. Robin is no more.”

“I don’t believe you,” Wally said stubbornly, though his voice shook too much. “We’ll find the Joker. We’ll get our teammate back!”

That seemed to break something in Batman. He clenched the scrap of fabric in his fist and roared, “You will not go after the Joker. He’s highly dangerous and currently possesses a weapon that will instantly ruin you forever. Do you want to end up like Robin?!” He shook the fist of fabric at them. “You will return to the mountain at once. I don’t want to hear another word about this.” He stalked into the jungle, where Wally now saw his black jet was parked.

Stunned, the team watched him get into the cockpit, fire the engines, and disappear into the sky.

* * *

**Batman**

The whirring white noise of the jet did nothing to calm him. He knew the team would not accept that explanation for long. Too bad.

He ran a shaking hand over his jaw. The stubble there indicated that he’d been gone much longer than he’d originally intended.

How could this have gone so wrong?

He slammed his fist on the dials, cracking one of them.

He would have to face the facts sooner or later.

“Not now,” he growled. But it was no use. The horrible sights and sounds of the fateful moment were burned into his mind, playing endlessly on repeat. He couldn’t distract himself this time.

No. Not Dick.

He shook his head furiously, but the flashbacks refused to stop.

Robin, laughing in his cackling way. Dick on the trapeze, flying like a bird.

Gone.

“No,” he growled. But the flashbacks continued.

“_Batman, come in._”

_He turned on the screen, revealing Aqualad’s face. He nodded to the young team leader. “Go ahead.”_

_“There has been… a situation. Just as you warned, it was a trap. Instead of Sportsmaster, the Joker was waiting for us, and unfortunately Robin has been captured.”_

_Batman clenched the edges of the table in front of him. “Explain.”_

_“We were employing stealth, as you instructed, but the Joker must have been expecting us. He lured us away from each other, and then Wally got captured by the Joker himself. Robin caught up with him, and the Joker offered to make a trade: Wally for Robin. Robin did not hesitate. I believe he planned to escape afterwards, but the Joker somehow rendered him unconscious, because he was cut off from the mental link. Wally tried to follow, but he was hit with expanding foam, and he could not pursue.”_

_“Did you search the area?”_

_“Thoroughly. Nothing at all. And there was no hidden base that we could find.”_

_Batman growled. “Stay there. I will join you shortly.”_

_“How will we find Robin?”_

_“I have ways. Batman out.”_

He knew he was taking a risk, giving the Joker exactly what he wanted, and yet he’d done it anyway. Part of him wondered if he should have involved the team, but it would have only been likely that more of them would have been hurt.

Ruined.

A beep alerted him to an incoming call. He glanced down, tempted to ignore it. But no, he’d be home eventually anyway. Now was as good a time as any.

He punched the button. “Alfred.”

“Yes, Master Bruce, I trust everything is going well?” The butler’s posh accent filled the small cabin. “Is Master Dick still with his friends?”

Batman did not answer.

“The reason I’m calling is that Master Dick’s friend from school, Miss Barbara Gordon, stopped by a few minutes ago. She asked why he’s missed school. I told her he was with you on a business trip, but she was quite insistent. I was wondering what I should tell her when you and the young master will be home?”

Batman looked outside at the clouds below the cruising jet, obscuring land and sea below. He didn’t know what to tell Alfred. “I’m on my way now,” he said.

“And Master Dick?”

“If Barbara comes back, tell her that Dick has been sent away, to a… a special program overseas for kids with exceptional computer skills.”

Silence. Obviously Alfred knew something was up.

Batman rubbed his face again. A weariness had settled into his bones that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Alfred’s voice finally buzzed over the airwaves. “What happened?”

“He’s gone, Alfred. He’s lost to us now. Probably forever.” The words hurt more than the hyenas’ bites and scratches that covered his body.

Neither said anything for awhile. Then Alfred said in a strained voice, “Very well, Master Bruce. We will talk when you return home. Godspeed.” The call ended.

Batman was left alone with his endless flashbacks for the rest of the flight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured I should kick this thing off with a double update. And thus most of the main players have been introduced! We'll be back with Rob next week. ;) 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Awakening

**“…Like birds they are singing…”**

**Rob**

He woke to pain. Everything ached. He sat up and winced. Just that slight movement caused him intense vertigo. He gingerly felt his head and found a bruised lump. He squinted as he tried to open his eyes. The harsh artificial light hurt, so he blinked blearily a few times.

He was in some sort of industrial warehouse, on a metal shelving unit surrounded by cardboard boxes and some wooden crates. Mostly, the warehouse looked deserted, though. A few crates were stacked here and there in the corners. Most of the shelves were empty. The bright lights belied the fact that someone indeed used this space for something.

He tried to move, but found that his feet were bound. _Huh. That’s odd. _He wondered why someone would bind his feet but not his hands. He picked at the ropes with his fingers, but his eyes blurred again, making it difficult to see straight. What had happened to him? The last thing he could remember was…

He sighed. Something about a jungle? Oh yeah, and hyenas. Was that a dream? Something about it didn’t seem right. He had no idea how he’d gotten into a warehouse. He rubbed the bruise on his head—another thing that confused him. He inspected himself all over and found various other cuts and bruises. His throat was parched with thirst, a sign that he hadn’t had any water in awhile. Perhaps he was dehydrated as well. Someone had cut away the gauntlet that was on his wrist. He remembered now that it had short-circuited. His utility belt was also gone, though he still wore the same ridiculous costume with the tattered cape and mask.

There had been thugs after him! He attacked the ropes more vigorously now. He had to be able to escape quickly. He ignored his intense thirst and tried to swallow around his dry tongue. This was bad. If only he could remember more!

He loosened the knot enough that he could wriggle free. He crouched at the edge of the shelf and looked down. Not too far. He could probably jump down—

“Ah, the little birdie is awake at last!” A strange voice said loudly. “I must apologize for the way my assistants treated you! They were told you were an honored guest, but they didn’t act like it, now, did they?” A tsk-ing noise followed.

“Who are you?” Rob called.

A strange man in a purple suit and colorful makeup strolled around the corner of one of the shelving units. He leaned on a cane and looked up. “Don’t you recognize me?”

Rob shook his head, but instantly regretted it when the movement caused him intense vertigo. He rested his hand on the shelf for balance. “Should I? I’m having trouble remembering anything of use right now.”

“Memory loss? Oh dearie me, how unfortunate. That nasty bump on your head must have been worse than it looks!”

Rob realized that he must have a concussion. The only thing was, he was _certain_ he’d lost his memory before he’d gotten the lump on his head. He kept that to himself for now.

“Why, my dear, you don’t remember your good old uncle Joe! Most folks call me the Joker, the Clown Prince of… well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” His wide grin never faltered, and Rob began to wonder if it was stuck that way. The man sauntered forward, swinging his cane. “Now, can you get down from there yourself, or do I need to call a mattress factory?”

Rob didn’t budge. “Why should I trust you?”

The man’s grin lessened a bit. “Ouch. That actually hurts. My own nephew, betrays me so?” He placed a gloved hand on his forehead dramatically. “Alas.”

“How did I get here?” Rob demanded. “The last thing I remember was that I was in a jungle, and those men were after me. Why? And why can’t I remember anything before that?”

“Ah, concussions are fascinating things, aren’t they? That nasty bump was a parting gift from ol’ Batsy. You’re lucky to be alive! He’s got quite the temper sometimes. But oh! You probably don’t remember him either!” Joker, if that was indeed what he was called, reached behind the nearest shelf and pulled on a cord.

Suspended high above, a fully set table began to lower on a mechanized pulley. Rob could see that it was spread with all kinds of food, and a single place setting. Mostly, though, he saw the huge pitcher of iced pink lemonade. He licked his lips and tried to swallow again.

“Help yourself,” the purple-suited man said in an almost gentle voice. He grinned again and placed a wooden chair in front of the table. “Have a seat and eat while I tell you the tale!”

Rob warily climbed down the shelf and approached the food. It looked okay, but…

“Okay, fine.” The Joker whipped out a jackknife and jabbed a slab of cheese. He took bite and swallowed. “See? No poison this time!”

“This time?”

“That was a joke. See, you might have understood if you remembered, but oh well. Eat up.”

Rob sat in the chair. Instantly a loud farting noise exploded from beneath him.

The Joker laughed gleefully. “Comedy gold, right there! A classic, if I do say so myself.”

Rob pulled a whoopee cushion off the seat of the chair and dropped it on the floor. This man could _not_ be related to him. He poured himself a nice glass of pink lemonade and took a tentative sip, wary of more pranks. Satisfied, he squinted at the Joker. “All right. Talk.”

The man pulled up another chair across the table from him and sat down, crossing his legs. “You really don’t remember anything?”

Rob glared at him as he piled cheese and ham on his plate. “I remember the jungle. What I _don’t_ remember is how I ended up _here._”

“What do you know about who you are? Anything?”

“I… I’m not sure.” He gestured at his outfit and mask. “With this getup, I could be anything from a circus act or some kind of stupidly-dressed burglar. Care to fill me in?”

“Ah, that bad, eh? Perhaps you should try mediation. The point is, we found you wandering around our camp, and I, being a concerned uncle, had to make sure you were okay. I mean, we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but family is family, right?”

“So, if you’re my uncle, then what’s my real name?”

The man shrugged. “Eh, who cares. Around here, you go by a moniker. I mean, when you’re dealing on the edges of society, you gotta become something more than just a name! You’ve got to be a persona!” He leaped up on his chair and made a ridiculous pose with his chin resting in his hands.

Rob rolled his eyes. “In other words, you’re not really my uncle.”

The man deflated. “Very well, you’ve got me there. But we are, of sorts, kindred spirits.” He popped a grape into his unnaturally red mouth. “So, what are you gonna call yourself now?”

“Rob.”

“Rob?” The man burst out laughing again, almost choking on his mouthful of grapes. “That’s it? Don’t you think it’s a bit, you know, basic?”

“Like ‘Joker’ isn't?”

“Sheesh, you’re good! You know kid, I’m starting to like you again!”

Rob didn’t know what to make of that. He got the feeling that while they weren’t actually related, he had indeed worked with this man before. But in what capacity? He needed more intel. “So what do you do?”

“Oh, I dabble. A bit of this, a bit of that.” He made his fingers into a gun shape and pointed it at Rob’s head. “Mostly I just aim to make folks laugh.” He chuckled, as if at an inside joke that Rob didn’t get. “Anyway, back to you. After my men so rudely captured you, we made the long flight back here. After all, those meddling delinquents were still poking about the forest. Sorry about the confusion. But hey, on the bright side, you’re in good ol’ Gotham now!”

Gotham. The name stirred something in him. Home? Or was it just a place he’d read about before?

“So, _Rob_, you want a job? You’ve proven you’re a natural at running and hiding, and I have a solid hunch that you’re a wizard at technology. I have a position open for a personal assistant. The last one, well, let’s just say she’s been fired for ineptitude and leave it at that.” He scowled briefly, but the look passed. “What d’ya say, kid?”

Rob stared into his lemonade. He struggled to focus his blurry vision on the ice cubes, which were already melting. He didn’t trust this Joker man, but it wasn’t like he had anything better to do. He briefly wondered if he had any family or friends who were looking for him. The funny thing was, he didn’t really care. Even if there were people out looking for him, he couldn’t be whatever it was they expected unless he could regain his memory.

Rob shrugged. “Sure, I guess. I’ll be your assistant.”

The Joker rubbed his hands together, his grin growing larger than ever. “Oh, goodie gumdrops! How jolly this will be!”

* * *

**Wally**

First he zipped from the kitchen to the medbay. Then back to the kitchen, and then out to the back door. On his twentieth trip back to the kitchen, something tripped him up and his momentum sent him sprawling into an awkward tumble. He smacked into the couch in the lounge area and finally came to a stop.

“Ow,” he moaned.

Conner entered the room, looking satisfied. “I stopped him,” he said simply.

“_Thank you!_” Artemis said. She stood over Wally, her arms akimbo. “How long have you been pacing like that?”

Wally let his head smack against the floor. “Too long. Need food.”

Nobody reacted immediately. M'gann was standing by the sink, idly washing the same bowl over and over again. Kaldur, leaning against the counter, finally reached for a bag of chips and tossed it at Wally’s prone form. “What did you discover on the computer?” he asked.

Wally pushed himself to a sitting position, ripped open the bag, and began munching and talking at the same time. “Robin’s tracker in his suit is disabled,” (crunch) “and none of his emergency frequencies” (chomp, gulp) “are active.” (Smack) “So, either he’s not in any trouble,” (munch) “or he’s in a _lot_ of trouble.” (Pop, crunch) “It’s like he just vanished.”

Artemis sat on the arm of the couch, still frowning at Wally.

Wally froze mid-munch. “What? Do I have crumbs on my face?”

“No, I was just thinking.” She rubbed her face and looked up at the ceiling. “Batman said that Robin was ‘no more.’ Why was he so cryptic?”

“He knows something,” Conner said through clenched teeth. “He always does.”

Kaldur pushed off from the counter and came to join them. “It would seem that Batman would like us to think that Robin is dead.”

M'gann squeaked and dropped the soapy pot into the sink with a clang.

Wally crumpled his empty chip bag. He zipped to the trash can to dispose of it, then resumed his rapid pacing, though he stayed in the lounge this time.

“If he’s dead, why word it that way?” Artemis said, obviously trying not to be distracted by Wally’s antics. “Do you think Robin gave up his superhero persona? Maybe something happened out there that made him just want a normal life?”

Wally didn’t respond, but he knew that wasn’t the case. Dick wouldn’t just disappear like that. Besides, he’d checked the attendence records at Gotham Academy just to be sure. Richard Grayson hadn’t gone to school that morning. Unless he was injured, Wally knew that Bruce wouldn’t let Dick cause suspicion by his extended absence. Something was definitely up.

“I am concerned about the weapon that the Joker has,” Kaldur said. “If it is as powerful as Batman implied—“

“Of course he didn’t trust us with the details!” Conner snapped. “He didn’t tell us how we could help. He didn’t _want_ our help!”

M'gann rinsed off the soapy bowl and then absent-mindedly sent it flying over to the rack to dry. She was still staring at the sink, though, and Wally slowed his pacing down enough to see that she was crying.

Conner seemed to notice and cut off his rant.

“M'gann,” Kaldur began, “What is—“

“It’s just,” she burst out suddenly, “I’m worried about him. He wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye to us first, I know it! Batman doesn’t want us to know how bad it really is. Robin is out there somewhere, he has to be. I just, I know he’s in trouble!” She choked on a sob.

Wally skidded to a stop in the center of the room. “That’s it!”

Everyone turned to stare at him.

“Don’t you get it? Joker’s mysterious weapon, whatever it is. Batman said it will ‘ruin you.’”

Artemis glowered. “And?”

His stomach gurgled, and he winced. “Just a sec, I need a snack.” He zipped to the pantry.

“Again?” Artemis demanded.

He zipped back, his hands full of stale cookies. “Stress eating?”

But by now, Kaldur was catching on. “The weapon is the key. Whatever it does, Robin fell prey to it.”

Wally swallowed a dry lump of cookie. “Yeah, and he’s alive, but ‘ruined.’”

M'gann cried softly into the sink, and they all looked at the floor, pondering those awful words.

* * *

**Bruce**

3 AM after a whole day and night, and still nothing.

He’d searched his notes several times over, but nothing gave him any clues as to how to reverse the effects of the weapon.

On the scratchpad by his keyboard, he slowly scrawled out, _No hope yet for Dick. No easy reversal. Perhaps Martian Manhunter can assist?_

Unfortunately, J’onn was off-world at the moment. Another dead end there for now.

He slumped, exhausted, still wearing the batsuit. He hadn’t slept since he’d arrived home. He knew he should move on and take care of other business, but it didn’t feel right. He had to help Dick…

The next thing he knew, someone was gently placing a blanket around his shoulders. Alfred, of course. The butler had silently stitched up his wounds earlier and had not pressed him for answers, but now it seemed the butler would wait no longer. Bruce sighed. “Alfred, you should go to bed.”

“I could say the same to you, Master Bruce.”

Bruce rested his elbows on the desktop and then his chin in his hands, staring blankly up at the screens.

“I believe, sir, that you owe me an explanation about master Dick.” Alfred gestured to the scratchpad on the desk. “That ominous note of yours raises concern.”

Bruce couldn’t look at him, couldn’t meet his eyes. “You’re going to despise me when you know the whole story.”

“I would never-“

“Dick tried to warn me about the danger and I didn’t listen.” Bruce shuddered. “I’ve been plagued by flashbacks that force me to relive moments I should have paid more attention to.”

“Good God help us, what happened?” Alfred sat next to him on the stool that Robin often used as they looked over case files on the computer together.

Bruce was tugged into another scene that had played out right in that very spot only days before.

_“Don’t do it, Bruce. Please think about this!”_

_“That’s enough. I don’t need to justify myself to you. This is none of your concern.”_

_“You’re not listening!”_

_“That’s the end of it, Dick. I don’t want to hear another word about this.”_

_Dick stared at him with utter disbelief. “I can’t believe you…” He turned and stomped up the stairs._

Bruce shook his head. He realized he’d left Alfred hanging. “It doesn’t matter how it all came about now.” His voice nearly broke as he said the words. It did matter. A lot. But he couldn’t face it. Not with Alfred’s sad eyes watching his every muscle twitch. He buried his emotions and finally worked up the courage to look over at his butler.“The bottom line is that the Joker currently posseses a device that can erase memories.”

The older man stared off into space, resting his mouth on his steepled fingers. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than Bruce had heard before. “I take it that master Dick was a victim of this… device?”

Bruce didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

“And where is he now?”

“Joker has him,” Bruce grunted. “I haven’t found out where yet.”

They sat in silence, each struggling to comprehend it. Bruce knew that this would hit Alfred especially hard. He had always had a special bond with the boy, one that Bruce himself occasionally envied. He’d often looked to Alfred to help him understand how to deal with Dick, especially when he first arrived at the Manor.

Alfred knew the boy, perhaps even better than Bruce did. Dick had always been an open book, but for some reason, he was even more open with Alfred than anyone else. And Bruce saw how Alfred doted on him in a grandfatherly way. That was all over now. And it was his fault.

Finally, Alfred got up to go. He silently brushed a hand over Bruce’s shoulder and turned away toward the stairs.

“Wait, Alfred,” Bruce said suddenly. “There’s something you ought to know. If… When I do find Dick, he won’t—“ He stopped to steel himself. “Dick as you know him won’t be coming back.” He gasped at his own words, feeling them sting.

Alfred’s voice was flat, mechanical. “I have full confidence in your abilities to assist him in returning to full health–“

“No! Damn it, don’t you understand?” Bruce stood so fast that he knocked the chair over.He wanted to run from there, but he forced himself to get the words out. Alfred deserved to know. “His mind—it’s been erased! There’s nothing left of Dick Grayson anymore. He’s waking up out there somewhere as the Joker fills his head with lies. Who knows what that kind of awakening will birth?”


	4. Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rob tries meditation, Barbara demands answers, and Wally eats cookies.

**“…And you are the star in my sky.”**

**Rob**

After a good nap, some juice and crackers, and Tylenol for his headache, Rob felt it was finally time to address the problem of his missing memory. The Joker had gone to do whatever it was he did, leaving Rob alone in the giant warehouse with the table of food and some bedding on one of the shelving units. He was fed and relatively comfortable, and while he wasn’t sure what he had gotten himself into with the Joker, he felt like he was at least headed toward something productive.

But there was still the dilemma he’d been pushing aside for too long now.

He wandered the warehouse until he knew every dark corner and hiding place. He took note of anything he could use as a weapon if necessary, and where the best place to fight a larger opponent would be. Though why his brain thought these were necessary things to know, he had no idea. While he explored, he allowed his mind to focus intensely on the current problem: his lost memory.

The goose egg lump on his head suggested head trauma, but he wasn’t so sure. He’d been disoriented, but he didn’t remember there being a lump when he’d first awakened in the jungle. A headache yes, but no bruise.

He poked his head into a small office off the main warehouse area. It was empty except for a metal desk. No chair, though. He closed the door and continued walking around.

If the lump on his head was something that happened _after_ he’d been found by the Joker’s men, then why had he lost his memories? Was it heatstroke? An effect of some sort of insect bite in the jungle? Some sort of poison?

He passed the exit to the warehouse and gave the door a test. Locked. So he was a prisoner after all. Just as he suspected. The Joker didn’t trust him. Well, at least the feeling was mutual. He wasn’t too concerned, however. The Joker needed him for something, though what he wasn’t sure.

That was another thing. The strange, purple-suited man with the clownish hair and makeup was apparently already acquainted with him. Did he know his true identity? It would certainly seem so. Then why wouldn’t he just tell him?

Rob returned to his makeshift cot on the metal shelving unit and sat cross-legged on the blankets. He closed his eyes and began breathing slowly and methodically. Perhaps the Joker’s offhand suggestion that he should try meditation was worth a shot. He forced his muscles to relax as he focused on keeping his breathing controlled and even. He let his mind drift, hoping that if he let his guard down, he would discover something about himself.

He waited for what felt like hours, not moving, only breathing and blocking out all distractions until it was just him and his memory.

Nothing.

A wave of panic started to rise in him. It slowly built up until he was on the verge of a full-fledged anxiety attack. He stood up and started to walk again, trying to calm his racing heart. Would he ever remember?

The Joker had only agreed with everything he’d guessed so far, which wasn’t exactly helpful. He thought back to the nightmare he’d had that first night in the jungle, with the black shadow roaring, the wild beasts growling and attacking, and that horrible laughing sound.

Could it be that it actually happened? He’d been terrified by it, and there was nothing he could remember before that night. It certainly felt real enough to him.

He heard voices on the other side of the door to the outside. Several people, it sounded like. He automatically flipped up onto the shelving unit and sprang backwards into the rafters in a fluid series of movements. _How do I DO that?_ How had he learned to move like that? He perched on a roof support, above one of the florescent lights where he knew he’d be hidden from anyone below. He had no fear of heights, it turned out. He waited for the voices to enter the warehouse.

Several large men came in, along with his new accomplice, the Joker. He waited, to see what they would do. The Joker motioned his men to stand guard by the door, and then strode toward the place where Rob had been resting earlier. He carried a bundle of fabric. “Come out, little hummingbird,” the Joker called in a sing-song voice. “I got a present for ya.”

Rob hesitated, then finally leaped down from his hiding place to the top of one of the shelves. He waited there, unwilling to put himself on the same level as those scary-looking thugs.

The Joker didn’t seem to notice his wariness. “You need some new rags, kiddo. Can’t have you running around in that get up, can we?”

Rob glanced at his tattered cape and filthy red and black outfit. He put a hand on the symbol on his chest. “What does the R stand for?” he asked.

The Joker only smirked. “Ah, but that would be telling.”

“So you do know who I am!”

“You told me yourself, boy. You’re a thief. A regular cat burglar.” The crazy man chuckled at this.

It sounded like a private joke. Rob narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips together suspiciously.

“Just get dressed, Owl Boy,” the Joker said, tossing the bundle of clothes to him. Rob caught it and pulled it close to inspect it. It contained a dark blue sweatshirt and cargo pants that smelled musty, but otherwise looked clean. “We have a big day tomorrow, kid. Gotta make some plans! Ha ha!”

* * *

**Barbara**

It was the fourth day in a row that Dick had missed school. That was not normal.

Barbara Gordon fiddled with her phone, looking over the many unanswered text messages she’d sent her friend over the last few days. He apparently wouldn’t answer her many calls, either. He had always been so good about getting back to her within a day or two, so she knew that this time, something was up. She clenched the device in her hands, wishing she could figure out a way to contact him. And not just because they had a history project together.

Alfred had been annoyingly vague when she’d called the Manor, asking for Dick. He’d hinted that Dick had gone on a trip overseas, to some sort of nerd camp. But that wasn’t good enough for her. If that were really the case, why hadn’t Dick responded to her messages?

Today, it was time to get some real answers.

“Miss, are you sure this is the right place? Is anyone expecting you?”

Barbara took a deep breath and nodded to the taxi driver. “It’s fine,” she reasurred him. “Thank you.”

He shrugged and pulled away to head back down the long driveway, tires kicking up gravel as he went. She faced the huge entry of the Wayne family mansion, determined not to be intimidated by it. She hefted her school bag and smoothed down her uniform. She’d come straight here after school let out. She’d had it with Alfred and his noncommittal answers. She was going to talk to Bruce directly if it was the last thing she did.

She marched up to the front door and pushed the doorbell.

After a minute, the door opened, and there was Alfred, unreadable as ever. He looked down his nose at Barbara and sighed. “Miss Gordon. How may I help you today?”

She folded her arms. “I need to speak with Mr. Wayne at once. It’s important.”

“I’m sorry, but Master Bruce is not in right now. May I give him a message for you?”

Barbara huffed. “I don’t believe you. I need to see him!”

Alfred looked as though he was about to say something, but before he could, a redheaded boy appeared next to her on the step.

He was already talking a mile a minute.

“You better let me in, Alfie, or I’ll just get in another way, and you better believe that I know how! Dick’s in trouble, and I need to know exactly what happened. Bruce better talk! He’s gonna have to spill the beans for real, here, no more misdirection so we don’t get in his way as he tries to fix things alone! You’ve got thirty seconds to make up your mind, before I run right through you and turn that house upside down, you hear? The whole team is… Whoa, whoa, wait, who’re you?” He’d finally noticed her.

She cocked her head, trying to absorb everything he’d just said. The kid was about her age, perhaps, with flaming red hair and freckles, and brilliant green eyes. He seemed to be excessively hyperactive. He hadn’t stopped twitching and shifting since he’d arrived so suddenly. She wondered how she hadn’t heard him come up behind her. There was no other vehicle in the driveway. She filed that away in her mind and smiled slyly at him. “Who I am doesn’t matter. Right now, I think we both deserve a better explanation about what happened to Dick.” She gave Alfred a pointed look.

The butler deflated. “Very well. You both might as well come inside.” He stepped aside and allowed them to enter the grand house.

They followed him through panelled hallways and ornate antechambers until he opened the door to a living room area with mahogany furniture. They sat awkwardly on facing couches, with a low table between them. The boy across from her did not hesitate to put his feet on it.

“Please,” Alfred said dryly. “Do make yourselves comfortable.” He left them there for a moment, then returned with a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies, which he set on the coffee table.

“So, you’ll get Bruce?” The red-headed teen said, reaching for the plate. He grabbed three cookies at once.

Alfred huffed softly. “I shall alert him to your arrival. Wait here.”

“No problemo!” The kid stuffed a whole cookie in his mouth.

Alfred stalked out of the room, leaving Barbara alone with the strange kid.

“Fokay,” he said through a mouthful of cookie. “Foo are you?”

Barbara grimaced. “I’m Barbara. I know Dick from way back, but mostly from school. And you?”

“Oh, Dick mentioned you! I’m Wally. He probably already told you all about me.“

“No,” she said flatly. “He didn’t.” It irked her that this kid was obviously buddy-buddy with her friend.

“Hmm, okay. That’s fine.” He sounded a bit disappointed, too.

“So, how _do_ you know Dick?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “My uncle works with Bruce a lot.” Fair enough. She still didn’t trust him, though. Something about the way he grinned at her suggested that he was keeping something important back.

“Do you know where Dick is right now?” She practically shouted the words, she was so desperate to know the truth.

Wally’s confident smirk faded. “A little. It’s bad.”

“Tell me!” She leaned forward. “What do you know?”

He looked toward the door, but no one was there. “He was kidnapped by the Joker.”

Barbara gasped. Her fingers gripped the edge of the couch cushion as if it was the only thing keeping her from falling into a bottomless chasm.

“And that’s not the worst of it. He may have been hit with some kind of weapon. Bruce knows more than I do, but I think… I think it messes with your personality.”

She gaped, trying to fathom it.

“Not your personality,” came a voice from the hall. Both of them jumped. Bruce silently entered and stood in front of them. His eyes were shadowed, telling of sleepless nights. “Your mind.”

“What does that mean, exactly?” she managed to ask.

Bruce sat on the very edge of the high-backed armchair. He didn’t look at either of them, but instead stared at his hands as he rubbed his fingertips together. He cleared his throat. “As you know, Dick often accompanies me on my various business trips. We had one in Nicaragua last weekend. But our private plane’s engines failed on the return flight and we were forced to land in the middle of the jungle. I suspect it was sabotage. In any case, the Joker was waiting for us. He had chosen me as his target, due to my involvement with Arkham’s new security measures. He got his hands on a dangerous experimental weapon that he wanted to use on me, and Dick was caught in the crossfire.”

Wally took another couple of cookies from the plate as they sat in silence.

Barbara gulped. She couldn’t even comprehend what Bruce was telling her. It didn't sound real. Bruce had to be making this up. It was the kind of thing you saw on the news, happening to other people. Not Dick.

But Bruce’s solemn face told her everything she needed to know. It was as real as the cookies in Wally’s mouth.

“And his mind?”

“Gone,” Bruce’s voice was low and filled with some tone that Barbara didn’t recognize. “Memory wiped. Dick is lost to us now.”

She bolted up. “No, I refuse to believe that. What is being done? I assume the authorities have been notified. Is the GCPD out looking him?” She wondered if her dad was already working on it. If so, she was going to be mad that he didn’t tell her.

"It would be no good to get local law enforcement involved,” Bruce said. “This was an international incident. But I’ve got top men working on it.”

“But the Joker is a Gotham criminal! My dad could-“

“No. You will not tell your father about this. He can’t help and I don’t want the media to catch wind of it.”

Barbara shut her mouth, bristling at his condescending tone. Who did he think he was, bossing her around like that? He couldn’t expect her to keep this from her dad. Still, it was probably true that media attention would hurt any chance of finding Dick.

Bruce’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Excuse me,” he said, and answered it. He exited the ornate sitting room, leaving Barbara alone with Wally again.

She reached out for a cookie, only to find that the plate was already empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And our last new POV character has now entered the story! In case you haven't gathered, Barbara doesn't yet know about Bruce and Dick's vigilante identities.


	5. Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter this weekend! :) Happy MLK Jr. Day!

**“Remember your nest-dreams…”**

**Rob**

“No, no, it’s no good!”

Rob watched as the Joker smacked his cane into one of the thugs. The beefy man flinched, but otherwise did not react. This had to be the strangest meeting that Rob had ever been to. At least, that he could remember, of course.

“I want something big! Something daring! Something that will spit in Batman’s eye!” He gesticulated wildly, as if declaiming a violent poem.

Rob yawned. It had been amusing at first, but now this was getting old.

The Joker spun around and pointed right at Rob’s nose. “Hey Bluejay! Any ideas? Spit ‘em out!”

“First, a question.” He shoved his fists into his blue hoodie’s pocket as all eyes turned to him. His new clothes were surprisingly clean and comfortable, but he’d decided to keep his old domino mask. It just felt wrong without it on his face. “Who’s Batman?”

The Joker’s eyes bulged. “Bwahaha!” He practically choked on his laugh. He leaned on the table in the warehouse office that had been spread with maps. “Hahahaha! Comedy gold again! You really should—hee hee—go for stand-up! Haha!” He was almost crying with mirth now.

“Yeah, I don’t get it,” Rob murmured. “Is he another clown?”

This only prompted another wave of insane laughter from the Joker. Finally, he wiped a tear from his eyes and managed to reduce his roars of laughter to small aftershocks of chuckles. “Why, he’s only the most ridiculous buck on the block.”

“More ridiculous than you?”

The Joker’s eyes glinted with something Rob didn’t understand. “Me? I’m just insane! Hahaha!”

“Eeysh.” Rob rolled his eyes. “Now you tell me.”

“Listen, Batman is batty, like Catwoman is catty. What else do you need to know? He dresses up in a tacky bat suit to take down hardworking fellas like me.” The Joker started ticking off his fingers as he went. “He’s violent, dangerous, oh and worst of all, he has no sense of humor! He beats up poor, unlucky people if they look at him the wrong way.”

A flash of something in Rob’s earliest memory back in the jungle caused him to shudder. A black-clad monster, screaming at the sky, horrible vacant eyes, horns poking out of its head. His nightmare. He blinked and forced it out of his head as the Joker continued. 

“All in all, he really cracks me up! But this time, he’s gone too far. He’s messed with me one too many times.” He glanced at Rob. “He was the one who betrayed you and caused your memory loss.”

This statement was so calmly spoken that he almost missed it. “What? What do you mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know _all_ the details, but apparently you had decided to work with the old Batsy. Why, I couldn’t tell you. But he turned on you and wiped your memory. Brutal, huh?”

“I thought you said I had a concussion?”

“That too.”

“But how-“

“It’s not like I was there, Pigeon,” The Joker said, sounding bored. “Like I said, Batman is brutal and dangerous. He practically rules this city. I think it’s time someone stood up to him. Maybe we can even take him down.”

“You want to kill him?”

The Joker waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, too easy. I mean, I will eventually, mortal enemy and all. But we’ve got to have a bit of fun with him first!”

Rob frowned. He didn’t want to kill anyone. At least, not until he had more information.

“Ah, don’t worry about him,” the Joker said, putting an arm around his shoulders in an overly friendly way. “I’ll figure that part out later. Now here’s how you’re gonna help me. I need to draw him out, get him to show his ugly mug.”

“How can I do that? I don’t even know-“

“Easy peasy. You worry too much. I’m thinking a high-level robbery, one of the big banks or corporations here in Gotham. That ought to get his attention! I’m gonna send you in first. I believe you’ll know what to do. You’ve done your fair share of breaking and entering in your short career. Besides, you used to be one heck of a hacker.”

Rob shivered. “I was? How do you know?“

“Kid, a guy can admire a fellow artist, can’t he? Now shush and pay attention.”

He really wanted to press him for more. A hacker! It made sense, but he still had no idea what that meant for his life.

“Okay, where should we hit? We’re back to this again. Any new ideas, boys?”

No one spoke up. Rob wasn’t sure where the Joker found his men, but they were a surprisingly stoic bunch.

“Very well, let’s shake things up a bit!” The Joker spun himself around, arms out for balance. “Spin the wheel and let it pick!” He stopped suddenly and almost fell over. He plopped his finger on the map of Gotham City. Everyone leaned close to see where it had landed.

“The opera house?” one of the thugs read off the map.

“Boring! Let’s see, what do we have? Eenie, meenie, miney…” The Joker walked his fingers in a tiny arc until they rested right on top of a point marked with _Wayne Enterprises_. “Wayne.”

* * *

**Batman**

“I can’t really tell until I can see the damage for myself, but if this device truly functions as you say, there is likely little left to work with.”

Batman growled softly and looked out the massive bay windows of the Watchtower. The earth below looked serene and peaceful, but it did nothing to soothe his frustration.

Martian Manhunter sighed. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know if I will be able to help at all.”

Batman knew he would have to find Robin before anything could be even be tried. But when he received the League notification that the Martian had returned to Earth, he went to him to find some thread of hope, desperate for something that would perhaps be a possibility for recovering the Dick Grayson that he knew. But J’onn had not been able to give him that hope.

His fellow League member finally seemed to recognize what Batman needed. “It may be that his memory will return on its own-“

“No,” Batman said. “This isn’t some medical issue that will go away on its own. This is not amnesia. This is a mind-wipe. It was thorough and probably permanent.”

Martian Manhunter thought silently for a moment, but finally shook his head. “I’m sorry, Batman. I would do anything to help Robin, but I fear it will not be enough.”

“What about implanting memories? Could you give him memories, to replace what he lost?”

Manhunter’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure what that would accomplish. If they aren’t his own memories, it won’t help him recover them. Unless…” He looked at Batman with a hint of wariness.

“The Joker could be feeding him any kind of lies,” Batman said. “I don’t know what state Robin will be in when we find him. He may believe that we are the enemy. He may even be feral. No device like this has been used on a human being before. I don’t know how it will affect him.” He took a breath. “It may come to replacing his memories with false ones, to alter his perception of himself.”

Martian Manhunter lowered his gaze. “No. I cannot do this.”

“If it helps Robin, you will.”

“No. It isn’t right.”

“It’s for his own benefit.”

“It could have horrible consequences,” Martian Manhunter said firmly. “He could become a different person, and it may be too much for him to handle.”

“He’s already a different person!” Batman snapped. “I’m trying to find a way to save him!”

“I am sorry, Batman, but I cannot help you this time.”

Batman and the Martian stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, Batman swept around, his cape fluttering after him as he left. He headed for the Zeta tubes, fuming. Who knew what lies the Joker was telling Robin?

* * *

**Wally**

The team stood in the briefing room, listening to his report on what he’d learned from Batman. Nobody interrupted, nobody asked questions, nobody even met his eyes as he spoke. He left out the part about Barbara, of course, but he did tell them the little bit he’d gleaned from Bruce’s cryptic explanation.

When he finished, the group slumped even more, if that was possible. Wally reached over the computer console for his half-empty soda can and took a big swig. His head hurt.

“So that is what the Joker’s weapon does,” Kaldur said.

“Memory loss, huh?” Artemis said in a voice that was more husky than usual. “Permanent?”

Wally shrugged. “Batman seemed to think so.”

“When we lost our memories in Bialya, Miss Martian was able to recover them for us,” Artemis said. “How is this any different?”

“That was Psimon’s doing,” Kaldur said. “He only wanted to incapacitate us mentally for a time. It sounds as though this new device is meant to obliterate.”

“Besides,” Wally added, “Psimon only took a few months’ memories. According to Batman, Robin’s memory has been completely erased. He won’t remember anything about who he is.”

Kaldur glanced over at M'gann. “You have been unusually quiet. What is your take on all of this?”

She shook her head sadly. “Batman is likely right. I suspect Robin’s memory is gone and won’t be salvageable.”

Wally’s face fell. He knew that M'gann would know better than all of them, but he still refused to accept it.

M’gann went on. “But I have an idea for something small we can do, even though it won’t fix the biggest problem. What if we pool together all our memories that Robin was a part of? We could at least help him that much.” She hesitated. “I don’t know what else I can do, but it might help if we surround him with our own memories of him. It could—maybe—point him in the right direction.”

They looked at each other. “That’s it?” Wally asked, crushing his empty pop can in his hand. “That’s the best we can do? A few scattered memories from us, and Robin’s supposed to bounce back on that?”

“It’s better than nothing!” M'gann exclaimed, sounding on the brink of tears again. “Would you rather let him wonder who he is forever?”

“You know what? Fine. We can cross that bridge when we get to it.” Wally stomped over the garbage bin and slammed the crushed pop can into it. “But right now, let’s just focus on finding him. Maybe he’s totally fine, and we’re all worked up over this for nothing.”

Conner grunted. “You just keep telling yourself that.”


	6. Firewall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little more interesting... *evil cackle*

**“They’ll be all your best dreams…”**

**Rob**

Perched on the roof of the building across from Wayne Enterprises tower, Rob felt as though he were in the place he was always meant to be. It felt right to be up so high. _Maybe I was a bird in a past life,_ he thought idly.

He looked down at the narrow street far below. The midday traffic was heavy, probably because many people were out to get lunch at various restaurants nearby. He just had to wait here until Joker’s diversion.

“You’ll know it when you smell it!” the Joker had told him. Rob didn’t know what that meant, but he was sure it would be crazy enough to see from his perch. From what he could tell, that man didn’t do anything by halves.

He pulled his hood over his hair, knowing that once he was inside the tower, he’d need to avoid detection on the security cameras. Even with the mask, he wasn’t sure if anyone would be able to recognize him. That is, if he was anyone worth recognizing.

He adjusted the utility belt over his shoulder. The Joker had returned it to him after they made their plans. He pulled out the grappling hook and grinned. This device felt good in his hand. He’d practiced all night with it in the Joker’s warehouse, swinging through the rafters and shelving units. He hadn’t fallen even once, which both surprised and delighted him. Finally, he was moving again! Sitting still for long periods certainly didn’t agree with him.

The wind pushed at him, as if testing how easily it could knock him off the ledge, but he braced himself automatically, still scanning the street for any sign of the Joker. He took note of every vehicle. _Police car, utility van, delivery truck._ Nope. All of these continued on their way. _Taxi. Another taxi. Airport taxi. Taco truck._ He watched each car go by without incident.

He also surveyed the people. From his vantage point, they were only tiny dots meandering about. Most were in a hurry, but not running, exactly. Gophers sent to fetch coffee or lunch down the street. A delivery man with a two-wheeled dolly loaded with boxes. Two coworkers out to get some fresh air. His brain catalogued each moving part. It was kind of fun, actually.

Then he saw it. A sewage truck, careening down the center of the road like a child’s plaything. He groaned as realization set in. “I’ll know it when I smell it.”

The sewage truck bumped up over the curb, scattering people as they tried to avoid being flattened. The truck picked up speed again as it crossed the open courtyard. Rob could hear the horn blaring all the way from his perch. The vehicle turned sharply at the last minute, but it was going too fast. It tipped over, crashing right into the front entrance of Wayne Enterprises.

_Well,_ he thought, _that’s one way to get attention._

Rob didn’t stick around to see how the Joker’s diversion would play out. He aimed his grappling gun and fired.

When the cable was secure, he leaped from his perch without a second thought. He sailed in a graceful arc over the unsuspecting people in the street below. The cable reeled in as he flew, so that when his feet made contact with the Wayne Enterprises building, he was already almost to the top.

He climbed to the roof as quickly as possible, knowing that every moment he spent outside in broad daylight, the higher the chances were that someone would spot him. He could already hear distant sirens. Probably some pedestrian had dialed 911 to report the crash.

He shrugged and headed for the nearest roof access. He had his own task to do.

* * *

**Bruce**

“Mr. Wayne?”

Bruce jerked his head up. He realized he’d let his mind wander again. The board members all stared at him expectantly. He swore internally and stole a glance at the clock. The meeting was supposed to be over already. No wonder he was having trouble paying attention.

That and the fact that Dick and the Joker were still missing.

He rubbed a hand over his face. “We’ll continue this later. That will be all.”

As the board members rifled through papers and began to exit the room, Bruce swiveled his chair to face the wall of windows behind him. He looked out over his city. There had to be a way to track down the Joker. Perhaps there was a way to draw him out—

_Boom_. The building shook and several people in the room screamed. Instantly, Bruce was on his feet. He ran to the windows, but couldn’t see anything out of place yet.

“Sir! Mr. Wayne!” His personal secretary rushed in.

“What is it?” he barked.

She turned on the boardroom’s smartscreen and pulled up the security camera feeds from the front entrance. Six angles.

A large truck had tipped over right across the doors, busting through the glass and knocking out a few decorative pillars. A goopy substance covered everything.

“Is that… sewage?” He wrinkled his nose.

“I believe so, sir.” His poor secretary looked pale. He hoped she wasn’t about to puke all over his immaculate boardroom.

A few people could be seen slipping in the disgusting goo as they tried to escape the scene. As Bruce watched, a crazed-looking man crawled out from the truck’s crooked cab and slithered through the chaos. Then he leaped up onto a planter and laughed with his head back.

Bruce cursed again. “Joker. He’s here.”

* * *

**Rob**

To his surprise, he met no one on the upper floor. The Joker’s diversion was apparently working. He gave up trying to be stealthy in favor of being fast. After all, time was of the essence.

As he went through the empty halls, he set the explosives the Joker had given him.

Once he entered the stairwell, he could hear voices, but they were much farther down and he did not meet anyone who would ask questions. More explosives set. More running down stairs.

Finally, he reached the right floor. He burst through the door, and looked both ways down the hall before heading toward the mainframe computer room.

The Joker had told him that it would be intense. “This Wayne guy is sort of a freak,” he’d said. “He uses triple-encoded systems, lots of ridiculous and redundant safety measures, a highly beefy firewall… You’ll love it.”

“But what if I can’t remember how to crack the firewall? What if that was in the part of me that got erased?” There. He’d finally said it.

But the Joker didn’t seem to care about that. “Here. This should help, Chickadee.” He tossed a small piece of plastic at him.

Rob caught it reflexively. It was a small data chip.

“I had some guys salvage the data on your old gauntlet. You know, the one that went all sparky-sparky-zap-zap?” the Joker finished with a laugh.

Now, faced with the massive rows of computer terminals in the mainframe room, Rob took a shaky breath. He slung off his slim backpack and pulled out the laptop he’d been given. It was exactly to his specifications, so he hoped it would be good enough for what he was about to do.

He pulled out the data chip and inserted it. This little drive had programming on it that he’d apparently created before he lost his memory. Joker believed he could do this. _Gotta at least try_.

* * *

**Bruce**

Seeing that fuzzy gray-green image of the person he hated most right on his doorstep instantly snapped Bruce into full alert. Why was Joker here, of all places?

“It’s a diversion,” he murmured.

“Sir?” His secretary looked at him, uncomprehending.

“It’s the Joker,” he said again. “Let me.” He took the remote from the woman and changed the screen to show other security camera feeds throughout the building. He only got through a few when suddenly they all cut to static.

Bruce straightened. “Not good. Sound the alarm if you can. Evacuate the building.” He hurried to the door and opened it for her. “And please be careful.”

She stumbled after him. “Sir, what about you?”

“I’ll be fine. Just go!”

As soon as she was gone, he ran to his adjoining office and locked the door. He yanked open the hidden drawer in his desk. The situation called for someone else to make an appearance.

* * *

**Rob**

The process was slow going. Once he was hooked up to the terminal, he had to begin piecing together some sort of plan of what to do. Oddly, he found that the security system seemed familiar, and when he looked at it closely, he realized that it had parallel elements to the code in the chip the Joker had given him. Strange.

His fingers seemed to know what to do on their own, so he tried to get out of the way and let them. He realized he had to disable the security cameras first. He easily found a bit of helpful code in his data chip for that. He was almost in a trance as he turned his attention to probing the firewall surrounding Wayne Enterprises’ financial information, scanning for vulnerabilities he could exploit, as slight as they might be.

Though he was sweating from raw nerves, he also hadn’t felt this alive in days.

Soon he managed to find an access point. He slipped through and established virtual “backdoors” just in case he might want to return for more money later. You never knew, after all.

Once he felt safe enough to do so, he started the process to transfer several million to a secure online account that the Joker had given him.

But then the computer froze up. Another window popped up that denied access without further authentication. He realized too late that this was an extra security measure that he hadn’t anticipated. And he couldn’t see a way around it. This would delay him by a lot if he couldn’t disable it immediately. He bent over and tapped a few commands to pinpoint the problem: _Voice key needed. _

He groaned. “Uhh, that’s just great.”

A feminine voice startled him as it came over the speakers in the room. “Voice recognition activated: access RG4. You may proceed.”

_What? _He stared dumbly at his screen in shock.

“Interesting,” came the Joker’s voice from behind him, causing him to turn. The suit-clad clown walked around the corner, spinning his jackknife in one hand with the other in his pocket. “Seems like this ain’t the first time you’ve hacked into this little abode, Duckie.”

“Strange…” Rob glanced back at his screen, now showing the various accounts that he wanted to open. The Joker had to be right. Obviously, he had been here before and set up some sort of voice recognition backdoor for himself. He only wished he knew the circumstances.

“Hey, we don’t have all day!” The Joker nudged him. “You gonna crack it, or what?”

Rob shrugged off his curiosity. That would have to wait. He returned his hands to the keypad to continue hacking at the redundantly protected funds.

* * *

**Batman**

It was easy to surreptitiously change into the suit, but no matter how many times he ran around his company as his alter ego, he never really got used to it.

He’d checked first in the security room, but the people there didn’t know why their cameras were down. Check the mainframe, they’d said, and he concurred.

When he reached the mainframe level, he saw that someone had knocked out the two guards by the elevator. He slowly approached the hall outside the mainframe room. The door was ajar.

Voices from within. One was definitely the Joker.

“Stay put. You can figure out what to do from here, I imagine. I’m gonna go see if our dear guest has arrived yet.” Footsteps. Joker’s head poked out from the room. “Ah, speak of the devil…” He closed the door behind him.

Batman’s blood was already simmering. “Joker,” he growled. “You have something that belongs to me.”

“More than one something, I think you mean. How could you forget your dear bird so easily? Oh wait, I’ve got that backwards. He forgot _you!_ Hahahaha!”

Batman blinked aside his caution. He threw himself at the Joker.

* * *

**Rob**

After a few quick keystrokes, the transfer began. He set it up to work automatically through the list of accounts, meticulously deleted any log files that indicated his presence to cover his tracks, then withdrew his data chip and let the process continue on its own. He glanced around at the many aisles of computers, all blinking blue lights.

Somehow he’d been here before. That voice recognition key: RG4—what did it mean? At some point he’d set it up to recognize him.

While he waited for the transfer to continue, he crept to the closed door. Through it, he could faintly hear the Joker’s crazed laugh.

“…I wouldn’t do that, if I were you. I’ve got this place rigged with random explosives here and there. If you force me to set them off, loads of people could die. But do you really care about that? We shall see!”

Rob peeked up through the narrow window in the door. He saw the Joker, holding the detonator in one hand. And in front of him…

A black suit, vacant white eyes. Horns jutting up from his head. A long ragged cape.

Mindless panic swamped him. _This_ was Batman? The monster from that first night in the jungle? The one who had taken his memory away? Terror throbbed painfully in his chest and he ducked down again. He pressed his ear to the crack and tried to hear over his thumping heart.

“What have you done with him?” The voice was angry, gravelly, and deep.

“Oh, don’t you worry about a thing!” the Joker practically sang. “The little birdie is confused, but actually he’s been _very_ cooperative.”

_Wait,_ Rob wondered suddenly. _Who are they talking about? _He forced himself to peek again.

“If you’ve hurt him in any way…”

“I think you’ve done enough damage already! Besides, you should know by now that your threats don’t work on me. I do what I want!” The Joker drew a strange, bulky pistol with his free hand, still holding out the detonator with his other hand. “Now, if you don’t get out of my way, I’ll use this,“—he waggled the gun—“on your little brain.”

Batman didn’t move.

“Even if you’re strangely not concerned about me boiling your noodle clean, you still might want to listen to me. Remember, I’m still holding this!” The Joker shook the hand that held the detonator.

“You’re bluffing. What are you hiding?”

“Do you really want to test me, Batsy?” The Joker grinned. “I do love a good game of wits.”

“Isn’t it enough that you took Robin from me?”

“Ah, but that was _your _doing.”

Rob shook his head. Something didn’t add up. Who was Robin? Batman’s girlfriend? And what was that strange gun thing that the Joker was holding?

Time to find out.

* * *

**Batman**

In the space of a couple of milliseconds, he’d laid out a whole series of possibilities in his mind. He began to evaluate each of them.

The Joker began to count, a gleeful grin pasted on his face. “One…”

If he went for the Joker’s legs, he might be able to knock him down and take the detonator. But what about the memory gun? If he went for the detonator, the gun was still a wild card.

“Two.”

He might be able to duck under a blast from the memory gun if he was fast. Besides, unless the Joker was bluffing about the explosives after all, a lot of lives could be in danger. He hoped that the building was quickly evacuating, but chances were high that many people were slow to exit. He had to think about them first.

“Three!”

He’d just decided his method of attack when the door to the mainframe room opened, interrupting the Joker from pulling the trigger. A small figure exited the room to stand next to the Joker. A boy, about thirteen years old.

Batman staggered, all thoughts of attack fleeing his mind at once.

_Dick._

It was him. He still wore the domino mask, though his clothes were simple, dark-colored civvies. He looked physically unharmed, though Batman didn’t miss the uncertain way the kid carried himself with untold fear in his posture and expression, though he was obviously trying to convey bravado. And, Batman noted with a twinge of pride, he was still wearing his utility belt, slung across his chest. The second lesson he’d taught him: always be prepared.

“Robin,” he grunted softly.

The boy shuddered and backed up a step. He turned to the Joker. “I don’t know who this guy thinks he is. Are we done here, or are you two gonna stare into each other’s eyes and quote sappy poetry?”

Definitely Dick. Something about that realization gave Batman the tiniest bit of hope. Maybe the kid he knew was still in there, somewhere.

Joker’s grin widened. “Oh, this is juicy—don’t you realize? This is the one-and-only Batman! Ta-da!”

Robin turned again to look at him coldly, though again Batman could see the fear beneath the glare. “Oh, so you’re the bat guy I’ve heard about.” His voice shook ever so slightly. “Maybe it’s the florescent lighting in here, but you’re a lot less impressive than I thought you would be.” He shook his head, as if disappointed, then glanced back at the Joker. “Well? You gonna kill him or what?”

Batman felt as though his heart was being run through a blender. To be faced with his partner, and yet remain separated by so much… He knew that this could only end badly. “Go,” he choked out. “Get away from him!”

The Joker holstered the memory gun and drew a real one. “Ah, but I have a better idea.” He grabbed Robin with an arm around his neck, then held the gun to his head.

Robin’s eyes widened behind his mask. “I thought we were partners in this!” He fluidly ducked out of the Joker’s grip and did a neat backflip out of the way. “So much for that!” He reached into his utility belt and whipped out two throwing stars. They pinged off each of the Joker’s hands.

The Joker dropped the gun out of reflex. Robin gave him a vicious kick to the jaw, sending him flying. He fell heavily to the hard floor, dropping the detonator.

Batman cocked his head. It certainly didn’t seem like Robin had lost his memory.

But the illusion was lost when the kid gasped and staggered back. “How did I _do_ that?” He looked down at his hands in awe. He bent over the unconscious Joker and picked up the memory gun curiously.

Batman took a step toward him. “Do you remember anything?”

“Stay… Stay back!” Robin retreated, flinching, and his fearful posture hurt Batman more than anything else. Dick was terrified of him.

Batman took one look at the Joker’s prone form, then went down on one knee so that he wouldn’t seem as threatening—a tactic he sometimes used around small children. “Listen to me. The Joker probably gave you a lot of lies.“

“Leave me alone!” Robin glanced down at the device in his hands, but then his fearful gaze darted back up to meet Batman’s.

“If you’ll trust me, I’ll explain everything.“

Dick continued to back away. He laughed nervously. “Like I’ll fall for that one! I can’t trust someone if I can’t remember them.” His voice sounded dangerously hollow. Batman noticed with concern that he was shaking horribly, on the verge of a panic attack. “And I can’t remember anyone, so I can’t trust anyone. Especially not you.”

A gun fired.

Batman ducked behind his cape instinctively. But the gun had not been aimed at him. Too late he realized his mistake. In his moment of distraction, the Joker had regained the pistol that he’d dropped. But instead of shooting at the well-armored vigilante before him, Joker had gone for an easier target. A target that would hurt him even more.

Dick lurched and made a sound like a strangled kitten. He fell awkwardly to the floor and didn’t move. Blood began to pool beneath his dark clothes.

“No!” Batman staggered to his feet.

The Joker tossed the gun over his shoulder and held up the detonator again. “Trust this: a bullet in your back will always take you by surprise! Ha!” He pressed the button.

Explosions racked the building. Part of the ceiling caved in further down the hall, sending debris and dust everywhere. The lights flickered out, leaving only a handful of emergency lights by the elevator.

Batman covered his mouth and nose with his cape. Dread pooled in his stomach. He couldn’t see anything through the dust and darkness. He charged toward where the Dick had been only moments before, but he was too late. All he found was a smeared stain of blood.

Another explosion knocked loose more debris, and a large chunk of the ceiling pinned his cape to the floor.

All he could hear was the distant echoing laughter of a madman. “Shouldn’t have called my bluff, Batsy!”

Robin was gone. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of Part 1!
> 
> Please forgive my lack of practical knowledge about hacking - I did google it though, honest! (I'm sure my personal FBI agent is facepalming somewhere...)


	7. Breaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Joker's attack on Wayne Enterprises, everything (and everyone) is a mess.

**PART 2 - ** **FALLING**

**Wally**

At Mount Justice, Wally was in the middle of half-watching some kind of anime robots vs. monsters show when his phone buzzed. He glanced down to see a news alert from Gotham. Something about a crash downtown, something about Joker… He sat up straight, knocking his bowl of popcorn onto Conner next to him.

“Hey! Watch it!” Conner batted away the pile of kernels, but several stubborn pieces stuck to his black t-shirt.

Wally ignored him and snatched up the remote, changing the channel to the news.

“…coming to you live from Gotham’s own Wayne Enterprises.”

Wally started. Wayne Enterprises? But that was Bruce Wayne’s company! Did Joker know something?

A reporter appeared, standing in front of the iconic tower. Emergency vehicles surrounded it, obscuring much of the crash site, but smoke could be seen pouring from some of the upper windows.

“Only minutes ago, there was a large attack on Wayne Enterprises involving multiple explosions and a truck crashed into the front entrance. Several eyewitnesses have confirmed that the perpetrator was the-” Wally’s brain caught up with what he was seeing, and he quickly switched the channel away from the chaos onscreen before any more details were given. The last thing he wanted was for Conner to lose it and barrel into Gotham without knowing everything.

He jumped up, spilling the rest of the popcorn onto the floor. “Sorry, gotta go,” he mumbled to Conner. “I just realized I’m late for, uh, a family thing. Yeah. See ya.” He zipped around the couch.

He glanced over his shoulder to see Conner shrug and change the channel to show static.

Wally ran all the way to the Team’s Zeta tubes. He bounced impatiently as he waited for the computer to recognize him.

“What are you doing?”

Wally yelped and spun around. “Artemis!”

“You look like you’re up to something.” She leaned on the wall and smirked at him. “If you’re going to go kick bad guy butt, I want in.”

“I’m—uh, just gonna-“

“Where to?”

He pouted. No use trying to keep her out of it now. “Gotham. Joker has apparently been spotted.”

“You were going to go after the Joker? Alone?! You’re crazier than I thought.” She looked impressed.

Wally ran a hand through his hair. “Well, I have a feeling Batman is already there.”

“Good point. Let’s go, then.”

He almost smiled. Sure, he could deal with a tagalong. “Only if you don’t mind being carried at super-speed, sweetheart.”

“You’re impossible.”

***

Once they arrived at the scene of the crime, an awful stench hit Wally like a physical wall, and he was forced to stop suddenly. Artemis tumbled out of his arms and gagged.

“Ugh, what is that smell?” She coughed and covered her face with her elbow.

Wally pushed up his goggles and quickly looked around. He spotted Batman talking to the police commissioner off to the side a short distance away, and he immediately raced over, abandoning Artemis.

“What happened?” he demanded as soon as he skidded to a stop. “Was it the Joker? Can I help? Is Robin-mmph!” Batman slapped a hand over Wally’s mouth, stopping the flow of questions. Wally wilted under his fierce glare.

“Kid Flash,” Batman said. “I need to speak with the Commissioner first.”

Wally nodded meekly, and Batman removed his gloved hand. He looked around at the mess that surrounded them while Batman finished talking to Commissioner Gordon. He finally spotted the source of the stench: a sewage truck had crashed into the front entrance, spilling out hundreds of gallons of unmentionable goop. He saw a firetruck nearby, and several firefighters in haz-mat suits were trying to spray down the filth with a special firehose. It wasn’t working so well.

“So far, no one has been found dead,” the Commissioner was saying. “But there are some serious injuries, and we’re concerned about the integrity of the tower. Several witnesses claim they saw the Joker here. Is this true? This is his doing?”

“Yes, it was the Joker. I saw him myself,” Batman said. “I believe he was trying to draw me out. He has something of mine, and I mean to get it back as soon as possible. There may be more trouble because of it.”

Artemis finally caught up to them. She crossed her arms to wait with Wally.

“Why Wayne Enterprises?” the Commissioner asked. “Did he take anything of value?”

“I believe he had someone hack the accounts. The crash was a diversion. You may want to have someone look into that.”

“Noted. Let me know if there are further developments with the Joker.” He nodded to Batman and parted.

Wally waited until the Commissioner was out of earshot. “And? What the heck?”

Batman glowered at him as he ushered them both further from the hubbub of the crime scene. “Keep your voice down. The police don’t know about Robin, and I’d like to keep it that way for now.”

“But seriously! What happened here?”

“Just as you heard: Joker caused a diversion down here while Robin hacked the mainframe.”

“Robin’s working _with_ that stabby fruitcake?” Artemis said. She rubbed her forehead. “I can’t imagine anyone would ever think that was a good idea.”

“Robin is not himself. I’m sure Wally told you his memory has been wiped. He doesn’t know who he is.”

“But what kind of stupid idea-“

“It cost him,” Batman continued. “The Joker turned on him. He was shot.”

Both Wally and Artemis froze, horrified.

“Then the Joker blew up part of the building. In the chaos, he got away, taking Robin with him.”

Wally gulped. “He _shot_ him? Oh man, oh man. We gotta find him! He could be… could be-“

“Joker will try to keep Robin alive for now,” Batman said. “As long as he has him, he knows he has power over me.”

“But this is the _Joker_ we’re talking about!” Wally said, exasperated. “How can you still be standing there?”

Artemis cleared her throat. “Uh, so what’s the plan?”

“The team will not get involved.”

Red-hot anger burst through Wally’s veins. “What, you’re kidding, right? Listen, we’re already involved! And you’re not going to stop us from helping, so you might as well accept it and give us some direction!” He nearly had a heart attack when Batman turned to look at him. He’d never stood up to the Big Bat like that before. At least, not without Robin at his side. To be completely honest, it felt like he was a teenage mouse in front of an angry panther.

But Batman’s face was unreadable. If he was angry, he didn’t show it, except maybe with a bit of tightness around his jaw. But he always looked like that anyway. After a long tense moment, he said gruffly, “Go back to Mount Justice and wait-“

“Oh come on! What about-“

“Gather the rest of the team, tell them what happened here.” Batman spun around. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”

* * *

**Rob**

He knew he was delirious. The haunting melody in his head was proof enough of that. A woman was singing something, but he couldn’t catch the words. A lullaby of some sort. It sounded sad, but hopeful at the same time. He wanted to see the woman who was singing, but he couldn’t focus on the swirling red haze around him. He hurt all over. A draft ruffled his hair, and he shivered. He realized that his sweatshirt was gone, exposing his bare chest

“That’s it, turn him over,” a gruff voice said from far away.

His eyes fluttered open. He was staring at a bright lamp, and shadowed faces beyond, covered with paper surgical masks.

“Come on, the boss wants him alive. We’re gonna have to work fast.”

Hands grabbed his ankles and shoulders, and before he could think, they had flipped him over onto his stomach. He was on some sort of metal slab. The room was dark except for the blinding light above him, but in the corners of his blurred vision, he caught glimpses of dank, stone walls.

_This can’t be good._

His muscles tensed, ready to do something—anything—to escape. He wasn’t sure how many men were around him, but his odds weren’t great.

“He’s waking up! Quick, knock him out. Give me that.“

Something jabbed into his neck.

“You sure you know what you’re doing? I’ve never operated like this before.”

“Oh, I’ve patched stuff up here and there. Never a kid, though.”

Reality swirled with his fears again. Batman was there, looming out of the gloom. Ethereal mist rose up from the floor, so that Rob floated on a metal island in the darkness.

_“He’s pure evil,”_ the Joker had said. “_The guy is violent and unpredictable. He’s a killer, goes after the poorest and unluckiest in Gotham.”_

The Batman extended a gloved hand, as if reaching out to grab him.

“_Robin,”_ he’d said. Who was Robin?

The haunting lullaby grew louder in his head, joined by the sound of insane laughter, just like that first night in the jungle.

What did it mean?

_I can’t trust anyone… _He fell into unconsciousness, welcomed by the echoes of the haunting melody that always seemed just out of reach.


	8. Signs

**Batman**

He stood before the Team, contemplating the motley assortment of teens. They were so eager to help. He hated that he would be putting them all in danger, but they’d proven themselves many times over in the last few months. And it was for Dick, he reminded himself. They had to get Dick to safety. After how his conversation with J’onn had gone, he couldn’t bring himself to involve the Justice League in this _personal_ business. This little Team was all he had at the moment.

“Here’s how you will assist,” he said evenly. A map of Gotham appeared on the holoscreen behind him. “Robin is likely still in Gotham. Joker made it clear that he isn’t done here, so he likely has some hideout in a forgotten or abandoned building. It may be something flamboyant or strange. The Joker likes to be dramatic.”

Artemis muttered, “Says the guy in the bat suit.”

Wally next to her covered his surprised laugh with a fake cough. Conner patted him on the back.

Batman ignored them. “When we find the location, do not attempt to enter on your own. There will likely be traps, so you’ll need to stay in groups of two or more. Don’t do anything stupid.”

He looked each one of them in the eyes. “Joker has a dangerous device that can wipe a person’s entire memory, so be extra cautious. Pay attention to the people in the street. Use all your powers of deduction. If anyone is acting strange or erratic, find out why. We don’t know what his whole plan is yet, but this much is certain: he wants chaos, and he wants me.”

“How did he get out of Wayne Enterprises?” Miss Martian asked. “Is there a way to track him that way?”

“For right now, your concern is to keep an eye out for any sign of him in Gotham.”

“What about you?” Aqualad asked.

“I found some evidence at Wayne Tower. I need to run some tests in the Batcave before I can come to any conclusions.” He raised his chin. “Is this all clear?”

They all nodded.

“Good. Aqualad, I need to speak to you for a moment. In private.”

The rest of the team left the room while the two of them stayed where they were. Batman hated to do this, but he knew it was necessary. He pulled a small photograph out of his utility belt. It was Dick’s most recent school photo. He handed the picture to Aqualad. “I don’t know if Robin will still be wearing his mask, but in case he is not, I have determined that I should trust you with this secret. Do you recognize him?”

Aqualad studied the photo. “I do not. Should I?”

“I want you to memorize his face. His name is Richard Grayson, known as Dick to his friends. You must understand that this is not something I entrust to you lightly.”

“I understand.” Kaldur handed the photo back.

“Kid Flash already knows, but no one else does. I want one of you in each group, if possible.”

“Yes sir.” Aqualad frowned.

“You have something else you want to tell me?”

“It is only that… I am not certain that I am fit to be the leader of this team. After the failure on the last mission, after losing Robin, I do not think I can trust myself to make the right decision in the heat of conflict.”

Batman didn’t answer right away. He wanted to tell the young leader that he did all he could, to assure him that he didn’t hold him to blame for what happened. But it was not entirely true. Some part of him recognized that Kaldur only did his best. But it wasn’t enough. Dick had been lost as soon as the Joker captured him in the jungle, though none of them had known it yet.

Finally, through gritted teeth, he managed to say, “Then you will simply have to prove it to yourself and everyone else from this point on.” Not trusting himself to say more, he turned and swept away toward the zeta tubes.

* * *

**Wally**

After Batman left, the team silently finished gearing up. Kaldur sat on a bench by himself, unusually pensive. Wally cocked his head. Something must be bothering him, he thought.

He glanced at the others to see that they were occupied, then went over to sit by Kaldur. “What’s up?”

Kaldur roused himself enough to look at him. “I am considering the wisdom of this mission. It may have drastic consequences for all of us.”

Wally shrugged. “Yeah, well, we gotta do it, y’know? For Rob.”

“Batman shared with me a photo of Robin’s civilian identity.”

Wally almost fell off the bench. “He—He did? Wow, that’s amazing.”

“He is afraid that Robin may not be easy to find if he has removed his mask and costume. That is why I am sending you with one group, while I lead the other. We will divide the rougher parts of the city up between us and search for clues.”

“We’ll find him,” Wally said firmly. “I know we will!”

Kaldur stood. “I am only afraid of what we will find when we do. Robin will likely not remember any of us. He may even perceive us as a threat.”

Wally swallowed down the lump in his throat. “I know. But if so we’ll just have to show him that we’re on his side and hope he can see it before the worst happens.”

* * *

**Barbara**

Spin the pencil around. Stop. Reverse the spin. Stop. Spin back the other way again.

The clock seemed stuck at ten minutes to the end of class. Barbara hated sitting still, waiting for the seconds to tick by. She had so many other things to worry about than schoolwork.

She glared at her notebook and continued to spin her pencil. Instead of science notes, the page was filled with scribbled thoughts about the puzzle of Dick’s disappearance.

She hadn’t told her father about her friend’s kidnapping, as per Mr. Wayne’s request, but it felt like something big was wrong about the whole thing. And not just because her friend was in the hands of a monster. Bruce was hiding something.

She chewed on her eraser. It tasted like plastic.

Wally had known something. She’d begged him to text her if he found out anything at all, but she doubted that he actually would. He didn’t know her from Adam.

It bothered her that Dick hadn’t mentioned his friend from Central City. Who was he? Wally mentioned a “team.” What would that be about? It wasn’t any sort of sports team from Gotham Academy, that was for sure. And definitely not the regional mathletics team that Dick was on. She knew all of those students, and Wally wasn’t one of them.

She glanced at the clock again. Still five minutes left. Was the clock actually slow?

Time to start a list.

She stopped spinning her pencil and began to jot things down.

_Wally knows Dick very well_

_“Team”_

_Dick captured in Nicaragua?_

_Joker has a memory-erasing weapon_

_Alfred knows something too - does he lie because of Bruce?_

She tapped her pencil on the paper. Things certainly didn’t add up.

The bell finally rang. Barbara quickly shuffled her notebooks into her bag as the rest of the class began to talk and move around. She narrowly avoided a conversation with Bette (who always loved to chat about the most mundane things), and hurried to the entrance of the school, where her dad usually picked her up.

But her phone buzzed just as she reached the doors. She glanced down. A text from her dad?

_Sorry honey, can you get another ride home? Incident with Joker. Lots of clean-up/questioning. If you need to, use the emergency cash for a taxi. I don’t want you on the streets for now. Joker is still at large._

She gaped at the words. Joker was _here?_ In Gotham? That meant that Dick could be in Gotham, too.

She raced to the curb and flagged down a taxi. She had no intention of going home like her dad wanted. No, she needed answers _now._

“Where to?” the cabbie asked as she hopped inside.

“Wayne Manor,” she said. _Time to find out what Alfred is hiding._

* * *

**Wally**

“Ugh, I don’t know what to look for!” Wally sat on the curb and rubbed his eyes. M'gann, in her “Megan” appearance, stood next to him. “I don’t know this city like Rob does!”

“I don’t either,” M'gann said, “but I can tell that something’s not quite right.”

Wally looked up and stared at the constant stream of traffic in the street in front of him. “What do you mean?”

She closed her eyes. “I can feel it. There’s a lot of confusion floating around. But I can’t pinpoint where it’s coming from.” She opened her eyes again and shrugged at Wally. “I’m sorry, there’s just too much interference with all these people around.”

A truck horn blared, and Wally swiveled his head around to see the traffic stopped further up the street. “What’s going on up there?” he wondered. “I’m gonna go find out.”

“Wally, wait—“

But Wally didn’t wait to hear the end of M'gann’s protest. He zipped down three blocks to the heart of the traffic jam. Multiple horns were honking now, and a few people yelled from open windows in vehicles. He scanned the area, and as he came around a large van, he saw the source of the problem.

Zombies.

Well, not actual _real_ zombies. Just ordinary people who looked as vacant as zombies. There were a dozen of them, all wandering in the middle of the street. Apparently they didn’t realize that they were blocking traffic. And the traffic was getting angrier and angrier by the second.

Wally ran out into the middle of everything. He grabbed one of the closest zombies, a middle-aged man with graying hair, and shook him. “Hey there,” he said. “You okay?”

The man he’d grabbed only blinked in confusion. “I… Where am I?”

“Dude, does the middle of the street ring a bell?”

The man shook his head and blinked a few more times. Wally gave up on him and turned to check on a young woman who had wandered close to him. She stared at Wally with large, startlingly blue eyes, her brow furrowed as if trying to remember where she’d seen him before.

“Uh,” Wally said. “Do _you_ know where you are?”

“The middle of the street, apparently,” she said with an English accent, clutching her large leather handbag to her chest as if afraid to lose it. “But please, what city is this? And how did I get here?”

Wally groaned. “I don’t have time for this,” he muttered. He scooped the woman up and zipped to the curb, where he set her down. “Stay,” he said.

She _hmphed_ at him, but she obeyed.

Wally ran back and forth, moving the zombie-people out of the street so that the traffic flow could resume. M'gann, now in full hero attire, finally caught up with him and helped to move the people to the sidewalk. The small group of people waited there, dazed, watching the proceedings with curiosity, fear, and above all, confusion.

Once the street was clear, M’gann flew to join Wally a short distance from the confused group of people. “What happened to these poor people?” she whispered.

“I have a hunch,” Wally said, grinding his teeth together. “Check their minds.”

M’gann stared at the group of people, probing their thoughts with her Martian mind powers. Wally chewed on his right knuckle as he waited. This had to be the work of the Joker.

Then M’gann gasped. “How awful! Their minds are wiped clean!”


	9. Ultimatum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wally is smart for two seconds, and then immediately does something incredibly stupid. What else is new?

**Batman**

Bruce tapped the keyboard, zooming in on the fuzzy security footage. All the Wayne Enterprises cameras had been disabled by the hack—by Dick—but Bruce had placed several of his own cameras that were not connected to the mainframe. Batman needed eyes of his own all across the city.

He watched the unmarked helicopter drop a line and sling to the roof where Joker stood, holding Dick’s limp body. A masked figure leaned out to signal to the Joker. Bruce paused the feed. Just as he’d thought. Sportsmaster.

That man had his fingers in too many pies.

“Now, where are you hiding?” he murmured. He resumed playback and watched the Joker and his captive get hauled into the helicopter as it began to drift away. Then off it went, headed due west. He tapped a few more keys, and he switched to a different angle. He just caught the end of the helicopter’s passage, still heading west.

He switched cameras again. Nothing. Too far. He backtracked, but the cameras didn’t cover all of the city. There were a lot of areas that were still invisible to him.

“West,” he said aloud. “All right.”

A buzz alerted him to an incoming call. He pressed a button. “Aqualad, report.”

“We have found two areas on the west end of Gotham with a number of people who have been memory-wiped. We alerted the police, and they said they would take care of the victims. However, there may be more.”

“Alert me as soon as you know. Focus your efforts on the west side of Gotham. I have reason to believe the Joker is hiding somewhere in your vicinity.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And tell the others that Sportsmaster is involved, likely acting as a mercenary.”

“Understood. Aqualad out.”

Bruce sighed and continued to scan the security cameras for any sign of the Joker.

* * *

**Wally**

“We found another cell,” Aqualad said over the comms. “That makes three groups now. I am sending you the coordinates, and then I will contact Batman again. We need to stop this before more people lose their memories.”

Wally grunted, but his mind was still reeling with the shock of seeing face-to-face how the memory wipe affected people. And these were complete strangers to him. How would he ever handle seeing Rob like that? So lost, confused, afraid?

“Wally!” M’gann cut into his thoughts. “We’re supposed to meet up with Aqualad and the others.”

Wally glanced back at the coordinates that Kaldur had sent. Something about them bugged him. “Batman told us to focus on the west side of Gotham, but these attacks seem to be in an arc pointing east. If you were to connect them…” He moved his finger in a spiral, thinking.

“Wally, what are you doing? We should hurry in case Batman says—“

“That’s it!” Wally said. “It’s a golden spiral! Fibonacci and all that stuff. Here, look!” He pulled up his map and showed her the locations of the attacks. “If you connect them, they start to curve in. If I were to plot out the rough trajectory, it would eventually lead us…” He carefully circled the map and pointed at a location farther east. “Here. Apparently it’s the old public library. I’m sure that’s where the Joker is setting his trap! That’s got to be where Robin is!”

M’gann looked skeptical. “That seems kind of far-fetched, even for Joker.”

“Kaldur said that Sportsmaster is involved. That guy might plan out something stupid like this, especially if he was trying to lure in someone smart like Batman.”

“We should contact Aqualad—“

But Wally was done sitting around. “I’m going now,” he said. “You coming?” He turned to go.

“Wait, no, Wally stop!”

Wally didn’t stop. He took off running at super-speed toward the dead center of his invisible spiral. Robin _had_ to be there. He pushed his legs toward their limit, not caring that he was being reckless. Every second they delayed, his friend was in more danger.

In a few seconds, he reached the block where the old library building loomed, dark and abandoned. He raced toward the entrance and skidded to a stop. The doors were boarded up and covered with corrugated steel panels to prevent unauthorized use of the former government building. He tested the panels, but they were secured too well for him to slip through. He growled, and looked for the nearest windows. But those, too were covered. Had he been wrong? Or was there another way in?

He ran toward the side of the building, but every window was blocked. He stopped at the back of the building, where there was a loading dock and book return area. Garbage and debris had collected in the eddy where the wind swirled around between two walls. He ran toward the maintenance door and tested it. To his surprise, it opened easily, revealing a completely dark interior.

Wally took a deep breath and stepped through into the darkness.

As he crossed the threshold, however, he tripped over a fishing line stretched across his path. Instantly an alarm blared. The door behind him swung shut.

Insane laughter echoed around him in the darkness. Wally froze in panic. Joker was here already? Wasn’t he still out memory-blasting people?

Yup, this was officially bad.

A heavy cord smacked into his legs and twisted around them. He fell to the concrete floor of the loading dock. He reached down and frantically tried to wiggle free of whatever had snagged him, but it wasted precious seconds of his time.

A gun pressed against his forehead. He stiffened.

“Hee hee hee! I got you now, admit it!”

Wally slowly looked up to see the shadow of the Joker in front of him. All that the dim lighting revealed was the faintest glint in those crazed eyes, and the sheen of bared teeth in a creepy grin. Everything else was concealed in shadow.

“Any last words before I scramble your eggs? Fry your bacon? Toast your bread?” The barrel of the gun jabbed into Wally’s forehead, kicking him back a few inches. “Hmm? Anything to say before you forget how to say anything?”

Wally shuddered. His memories! This wasn’t happening! He opened his dry mouth.

“Too bad!” the Joker sneered. “I don’t care to hear it anyway! You’d probably just whimper and snivel like your little friend did.”

Friend? Was he talking about Robin? A burst of fury blasted through Wally, and he gathered his strength to do something rash.

_Click._ That little sound froze all the fury in his veins. “Goodbye, Batsy,” the Joker said, and pulled the trigger.

In that one moment, many things occurred to Wally:

First, he realized that the Joker must not be able to see his victim any more than Wally could see him.

Second, based on that first thought, he came to the conclusion that the Joker really thought he was memory-wiping his arch-nemesis, Batman. It was kind of flattering yet disturbing to be confused with the Dark Knight.

Third, Wally realized that he was about to experience exactly what Dick had felt as he lost his memories.

Fourth, however, he would not remember what it felt like once the memory wipe was complete. Not to mention, he wouldn’t remember that he’d ever had a friend named Dick Grayson.

Fifth, he realized he should probably have images from his life flash before his eyes or something, and was surprised to find that nothing of the sort was happening. Was he defective? Or had all the stories lied about that? He mentally shrugged off that thought. Why care about that, when you’re doomed to forget everything anyway?

He considered. How should he face his doom? He felt like yelling and “raging against the night” and all that, but was that too cliché? Or he could face it stone-faced and solemn. He certainly deserved a grand, heroic end. But no, it just wasn’t him.

He decided that the best way to end his career as Kid Flash was to laugh in the face of danger. It had a nice ironic twist to it: the guy who loves to make dumb jokes laughs at the dumbest Joker in the world.

Having made his decision, Wally bravely summoned a laugh for the ages.

Something flared up directly in front of his face, and the memory blast smashed into it. The blast dissipated harmlessly into the air.

Instead of the laugh he’d planned, the sound Wally made was actually something closer to “Whahuh?”

M’gann floated down from the ceiling, hands extended, creating the shield around Wally. She joined him in the bubble, glaring at the Joker with an intensity that Wally hadn’t seen from her before. He was just glad that she’d figured out where he was in time.

“That was close,” he muttered. “Thanks, babe.”

She ignored him, still focused one hundred percent on the Joker.

The Joker, now able to see them in the ghostly glow of M’gann’s shield, cradled the dreaded memory gun. “Wait, you’re not Batman! No fun.”

Wally finally managed to free his legs from the bolas that had somehow ensnared him. He leaped to his feet again. “Where’s Robin?” he yelled.

Joker, unimpressed, leaned against the wall and blew on the steaming barrel of the gun. “Slowly dying from his wounds, alone and abandoned and confused.” He _tsked_ a few times.

M’gann held a hand out, preventing Wally from rushing forward. He realized she was going to try to nab it from his mind, and he quickly grabbed her shoulder.

“Don’t go there,” he whispered. “This guy is legitimately psycho. You probably don’t want to go poking around in _his_ mind.”

She frowned, and Wally was afraid she would do it anyway.

The Joker seemed oblivious to their exchange. He spun the gun around on one finger. “And it’s all thanks to Batsy’s dirty little secret here.”

Wally froze. _Batman?_

The Joker made a face of mock astonishment. “Oh, didn’t Batsy tell you? No, I suppose he wouldn’t, it would ruin his fake reputation as a paragon of virtue and justice, yada yada. Why d’you think I kidnapped Robin in the first place, back in the jungle?”

Wally’s mind whirred, trying to make sense of this information. What was the Joker talking about?

“As soon as I heard about this lovely little piece of beautiful chaos, this sweet piece of technological hubris, I knew I just _had_ to have it. The only way to do that was to lure Batsy out of his cave with my winning personality!”

They both gaped at him. “Are you claiming that you got that weapon from Batman?” M’gann demanded.

“What, did you really think I have the technical expertise to make this bad boy for myself? I’m flattered!”

Neither Wally nor M’gann had an answer for that.

“Now, be good little dears and fetch Batsy for me. Oh, this is going to be _so_ much fun!” Still spinning the gun casually, the Joker turned to walk back into the shadows. “Hahaha!”

Wally felt M’gann’s shield go down, and he immediately rushed out toward the Joker, reaching for the memory gun—

He ran right into a gloved fist.

Wally staggered back, dazed.

Sportsmaster stepped out of the deepest shadows. His masked face betrayed no emotions, but Wally could sense the amusement in his confident posture and swagger. A few other thugs backed him up.

Wally skittered back to safety, rubbing his jaw where Sportsmaster had walloped him.

Sportsmaster nodded once. “And tell be sure to tell Batman to come alone.”

Joker twittered in his insane way. “Oh yes, Batsy must walk alone. You know, because if the police show up, the little birdie is a goner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh ho ho! What does Joker know? :P
> 
> I may have another update this weekend! Stay tuned!


	10. Research

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barbara searches for answers, Batman learns how stubborn the Team can be, and Rob has more than one kind of headache.
> 
> Bonus chapter this week! :) Enjoy!

**Barbara**

Nobody answered when she rang at the front door of Wayne Manor. Barbara huffed. Usually Alfred was on top of everything. Why wasn’t he answering? She rang again, and waited only ten seconds before pounding on the massive door.

Still nothing.

Could it be that nobody was home? Odd. Though, if Bruce was still at Wayne Enterprises due to Joker’s attack, it could make sense that Alfred was out as well.

She left the front step and found herself underneath Dick’s second-floor window. She glanced at the large maple tree sprawling out nearby. She noted the limb that hung conveniently close to the windowsill.

Dick usually left his window unlocked, she knew, because several times they had climbed out onto the roof through it. She’d learned that it was one of his favorite ways to escape from Alfred when he tried to conscript him into doing dishes or some other task.

She climbed the tree and easily made the small hop onto his window. She pried the window open with a sturdy ruler she had in her bag. She stuck her head inside. The afternoon sunlight was enough to reveal at a glance that the room was empty and had been for some time. The bed was made neatly, the laundry hamper was empty, and the floor was spotless. Dick was fairly tidy, but he never left his room that clean, as far as she knew. Alfred had made his mark.

Feeling slightly self-conscious about sneaking into her friend’s room, she climbed inside nonetheless, careful not to make noise that might carry elsewhere in the house, in case she was wrong about Alfred being absent.

She found Dick’s backpack tucked next to the desk, still full of school supplies and books. Dick had definitely been planning to return to school. She caught her breath a little, struck by the strangeness of it. Her friend’s absence made her wish she hadn’t come in. It made the room feel too stark, too empty, and too sad.

She sank down to sit on the side of the bed. She stared at the poster on the wall. _The Flying Graysons._ Dick’s family. His mom and dad. Gone.

Now Dick was gone, too.

No. She was going to find him. Wasn’t that why she’d come all the way to Wayne Manor? She’d thought Alfred might have some answers.

But where was Alfred? Did she dare go through the house looking for clues on her own? She didn’t even know what to look for, let alone where to begin in the huge mansion.

She glanced at Dick’s laptop, asleep on the desk. That could be a place to start. She picked it up and placed it comfortably on her lap as she sat cross-legged on the bed. She knew his password (a fact that he hadn’t realized), so she quickly logged in under his name and opened a browser. She quickly noticed the news headlines: JOKER ATTACKS WAYNE TOWER. DOZENS INJURED IN GOTHAM BOMBING. JOKER’S TRICKS RESUME… Yeah, yeah, most of it was stuff she already knew or had figured out based on her father’s message earlier. She kept scrolling quickly through the vague reports until another caught her eye: MASS MEMORY LOSS—CAUSE UNKNOWN. She stopped and frowned. Memory loss, just like Dick. It had to be the Joker again, but the one-hour-old article was frustratingly vague. She kept scrolling.

She clicked through several news sites until she stumbled on a strange post on a less reputable blog. BOY WONDER MISSING? She almost scrolled past it. Robin was a source of controversy on many fronts, and the topic was often picked at by investigative reporters. But was he really missing? She kept reading.

_Robin, the accomplice of the infamous Batman, has not been spotted by any trustworthy sources this week. Where is the young crime-fighter? Yet again, his absence brings up concerns for his safety and the appropriateness of his role as the second member of the Dynamic Duo. The boy is obviously underage, despite his sassy claims to the contrary. This writer is of the opinion that Robin is probably closer to twelve or thirteen. Can the Batman truly justify taking such a young child out among dangerous criminals on a nightly basis? We can only hope that the reason for the young vigilante’s disappearance is that he quit. However, there are reasons to suspect foul play._

The writer of the article continued to outline the reasons, which smelt suspiciously of conspiracy theory. Barbara looked up from the computer and stared at the wall again. If Robin indeed had gone missing, Batman would be occupied and distracted. That was probably how the Joker had been able to make these attacks—

“Miss Gordon.”

Barbara jumped at the calm yet disapproving voice.

Alfred sighed and stepped through the open door into the bedroom. “I thought you might show up. But what on earth are you doing?”

She glared at the old butler. “Looking for clues, of course.”

“In Master Dick’s bedroom?”

“I tried to ring, but you didn’t answer.” She shrugged sheepishly. “So I found my own way in.”

“Hmm. I was occupied with Master Bruce elsewhere in the house and could not immediately answer your call.”

She straightened. “Is Bruce here?”

“He is not to be disturbed. Unfortunately, he is very busy dealing with the fallout from that awful attack on Wayne Enterprises. Press releases and all that.”

She patted the bed next to her. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you, Alfred.”

“Me, Miss Gordon?”

“Yeah.” She gave him a sly grin. “I’ve got a few questions maybe you can help clear up…”

* * *

**Batman**

Wally and M’gann’s report about their encounter with the Joker and Sportsmaster had been terse and nervous, but Batman knew they were not saying everything that had occurred. He guessed that Joker had threatened them with the memory gun, but thankfully they both seemed to be all right, apart from being a little more skittish than usual. He didn’t have time to think about that right now, though.

After completing his standard reconnaissance procedures to assess the situation at the library, Batman found the team waiting for him on the roof of a nearby bank. They all waited for his directions expectantly.

"I'm going in," he said.

Aqualad stepped forward. "We are coming in with you.”

The rest of the team stood quietly behind him, and he could tell by their faces that they all intended to participate in this rescue mission.

He wanted to say no. He wanted these kids as far away from this mess as possible. The last thing he wanted was to put anyone else in danger of losing their memories. Batman was not eager to let them jump in on something they didn't fully understand. But he knew they wouldn’t listen if he told them to stay out of it. At least this way he could keep an eye on them.

He looked at Kaldur. “Very well.”

Kid Flash pumped his arm in the air in triumph.

“But,” Batman continued, skewering Wally with his glare, “I want you all to stay in stealth mode. Do not engage the Joker. He’s highly dangerous, and in more ways than one. Leave him to me. The same goes for Sportsmaster.”

They all nodded soberly.

“Find Robin, get him out of there as safely as you can. He will need medical attention ASAP. And watch out for traps.”

Artemis nudged Kid Flash with her elbow. “You’re the one who always falls for that sort of thing. Maybe we should make you go first and trigger all the booby traps so the rest of us don’t have to worry about them.”

He stuck his tongue out at her.

Artemis rolled her eyes. “Oh, real mature.”

“Enough,” Kaldur said evenly. “We will split into pairs once we are inside. Miss Martian, you are with Superboy. Artemis will be with Kid Flash.”

“Great,” muttered Artemis.

“Wait, what about you?” Wally asked suddenly. “Where will you be?”

Kaldur nodded at the question. “I will be with Batman.”

Batman growled.

“The probability is high that this is all one big elaborate trap just for you.” Kaldur went on. “And I will not be sent away this time.”

As much as he hated to allow it, Batman said nothing. He nodded curtly and turned to stalk away from the group. The kid had a point, though it couldn’t possibly do much good to have him along.

* * *

**Rob**

He gasped as swam up through the fog of pain, trying to find a breath of air that didn’t hurt. The melody in his head drowned out any other sounds, and he began to hear more snatches of the lyrics.

_“Sweet dreams are winging…”_

The woman’s voice was clearer now. The pain faded as her tender song buoyed him up.

_“Like birds they are singing, and you are the star in my sky…”_

She ruffled his hair gently, and he tried to grasp her wrist. His arms wouldn’t obey. Like a ghost, she wafted away from him.

He tried to call after her, but couldn’t find his voice.

_“Remember your nest-dreams, they’ll be all your best dreams…”_

Her voice began to diminish. The pain was returning again.

_“And there you will learn how to fly…”_

He opened his eyes, blinked rapidly. He had to get to a computer. He blearily searched his surroundings. There! On a counter surrounded by dusty books, just out of reach from where he lay on the metal table.

“RG4,” he said hoarsely, and swung his legs to the side of the table. The pain in his back made him hiss through his teeth, but he refused to make any more noise than that. He seemed to be alone, but for how long? He put his hand over the wound, which had been patched up with a haphazard dressing. Somehow he knew it wouldn’t be enough. He would need some actual medical attention sooner rather than later.

He gathered his strength and slid to the floor, trying to keep pressure on his wound. As soon as his feet touched, his knees buckled. He fell forward onto his face.

“Disgraceful,” he mumbled into the concrete floor. “Heavy on the ‘dis.’”

He found he couldn’t get up. All the strength in his arms and legs had run out. They were on strike. “Traitors,” he huffed. He craned his neck. The countertop seemed miles away now, and the computer, his chance at finding out—

“Pathetic. I can’t believe I got pegged with babysitting duty.” A heavy boot stepped into view.

Rob tried to squint up at the newcomer. A large blond guy was silhouetted by the intense work lights in the low ceiling. All he could make out was the hockey mask over the man’s face. “Who the heck are you?”

“Your worst nightmare.”

_Figures._

The man pulled what looked like a heavy discus from from the back of his belt. “Whoops,” he said, and dropped it on Rob’s head.


	11. Breadcrumbs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Team starts to put together the pieces of what happened to Robin, and where he might be. But are they too late?

**Barbara**

She kicked her shoes together and tugged on her school uniform skirt, trying to ignore the way that Alfred kept glancing toward the door, as if he was anxious about something. “Please, Alfred, how does Dick know Wally? What is the ‘team’ that he referred to?”

Alfred waved a hand vaguely. “Some sort of online knowledge bowl, I believe. They met because Wally’s uncle is one of Master Bruce’s good acquaintances. The whole team is now quite close, and—“

“Come on, you expect me to believe that? Why is it secret?” Barbara looked into the butler’s warm and serious eyes. “Why didn’t he tell me? He tells me everything!”

A clock down the hall chimed once. Alfred glanced at the door again. In that moment Barbara guessed something that made everything else start to fall into place.

“Bruce isn’t really doing work for Wayne Enterprises, is he?”

Alfred sighed, but said nothing.

“He’s looking for the Joker.”

A long pause. Then, “I’m afraid so.”

Barbara groaned. “Does he… know where he is now? Or does he know where Dick might be?”

“I couldn’t say.”

“Hmm.” Barbara rested her face in her hands. It was obvious that Alfred _could_ say but he _wouldn’t._ He definitely knew a lot more than he was letting on.

They sat in silence for a long moment.

She suddenly realized something else. “Is Wally helping?”

Alfred looked as though the answer pained him, but he answered, “Yes.”

She jumped to her feet. “Then I can help, too!”

Alfred just frowned.

* * *

**Wally**

“Tell me again why I got stuck with you for a partner?”

Wally hardly heard Artemis’ complaint. He continued staring down at the library’s main entrance as he waved a hand in her direction. “It’s probably because of my winning personality,” he found himself babbling nervously. “Or our horoscopes aligned today. Or maybe Kaldur was feeling especially sadistic, and he decided to see how well fire and water mix. Wait, am I the fire or the water? ‘Cause I’m flaming hot and faster than lightning, but I’m also cool as ice—“

“Ugh!” Artemis covered her head with her arms.

They both perched in the second story window of the building across the street from the abandoned library. Somewhere in there the Joker had taken up residence. They just had to wait for Kaldur’s signal.

“Hey, it’s not my fault that Double M and Supes partnered up right away! You’d think they have a thing going on or something, the way that she clings to him and all. Or maybe she has secret magnet powers and he has high iron in his veins. Or maybe—“

He would have continued, but Artemis interrupted with, “Wally, are you… afraid?”

That shut him up. “I’m just worried about Rob,” he said honestly. “He’s my best pal.”

Batman had seen him get shot. Joker had him now. He could already be—

“Wally, ugh, stop overthinking everything. Just breathe, okay?”

He realized he’d been starting to hyperventilate. “Oh. Right.”

Over the mental link, Kaldur’s voice cut into his thoughts. _Batman and I will move in first_, he said. _Once we have the Joker distracted, the rest of you can move in, find Robin, and get out._

“So we wait some more,” Wally sighed.

“Great,” Artemis muttered. “More chatter.”

* * *

**Batman**

Kaldur trailed him as they approached the building, staying in the shadows. “Stay close,” he told the boy in a low tone.

They slipped through a broken window. The interior of the old library was dank, dusty, and full of empty metal shelves. Most of the book collection had been packed away in storage and then forgotten when the rebuilding project was canceled after the most recent round of citywide budget cuts.

Batman led the way from shadowy corner to corner. Kaldur impressed him with his maturity and skill. The kid had grown much since he’d taken charge of the team.

Something clattered ahead of them. They both froze, then silently approached the source of the noise, moving between the empty shelves.

An eerie laugh echoed throughout the building. The Joker. It was impossible to tell where the sound was coming from. Batman immediately motioned for Kaldur to duck behind the large wooden reference desk where the shadows were heaviest. Then he stepped into a patch of moonlight that came in through a high window that hadn’t been boarded up like the rest.

Batman slowly took a deep breath. “Joker!” he yelled. His voice filled the entire space.

Laughter answered him.

Batman knew that Kaldur would not stay in one place long. The Atlantean boy had an instinctive urge to prowl, like a wild panther on the hunt. He only hoped that he could keep the Joker distracted long enough for the kid to sniff him out. “What do you want?” he shouted into the dark library.

“Oh you know,” the Joker finally answered, his voice echoing around the shelves. “Distress and death, of course, mostly yours.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” Batman replied through clenched teeth. This was the man who’d taken Dick’s life away and twisted it to serve his own messed-up purposes.

“What can I say, you can’t let an audience down, right?” More laughter.

Batman saw the briefest shifting of the shadows from the corner of his eye. Kaldur had begun to hunt. If he could pinpoint Joker’s location, perhaps they could take him together. He just had to keep the villain talking. “Where is Robin?”

“Oh, he’s probably convulsing in pain somewhere, struggling for life, believing he’s alone in the world… All the classics.”

Batman snapped a dusty shelf into splinters in his hands and tossed the pieces aside. “Enough toying with me! What do you want in exchange for the boy? You’ve already used him to take all the money you want from Wayne Enterprises. Now what? What will it take for you to give up Robin?”

“If you’ll recall, earlier I intended to wipe your memory as I’d done with your protégé. But I see now that it’s much too early for that.”

_Not good._

“So, I thought to myself, ‘What if good old Batsy came, and while he talked my ear off, I used the opportunity to take out his accomplice?’”

A sudden grunt followed.

“Aqualad!” Batman swiveled to face the sound.

A moment, then, “I am caught in a trap. Some help would be appreciated.” The kid sounded like he was in pain, but still his voice remained relatively calm. You had to hand it to him, he knew how to handle stress well.

Batman leaped over a waist-high shelf, then started to climb up the empty tall shelf behind it. He vaulted to the top.

“Ah, ah, ah, stop right there, Batsy!”

As he straightened, he saw the whole messed-up situation. Several rows of shelves away, Aqualad was suspended from the high ceiling by a cuff around his left ankle. The Joker stood on the top of the shelf nearby, pointing the memory gun right at his head.

To his credit, Aqualad didn’t show any fear. “Do not worry about me,” he shouted.

The Joker gestured with the gun, but kept it aimed generally at the upside-down teen. “If you take one step closer, I’ll fry his brain until he thinks he’s nothing more than a fish! Oh wait, he already is a fish, isn’t he? Then I better fry him up good and serve him with chips!”

* * *

**Wally**

Wally was in the middle of wiggling his eyebrows super fast to see if he could get them to catch fire, and had just begun to see some faint wisps of smoke when Kaldur’s voice cut through his concentration over the mental link. He immediately jumped to his feet and Artemis sat up straight in her spot on an air conditioning unit on the roof to listen.

_The Joker is occupied right now. You should move in as soon as possible. As far as I can tell, Robin is not on the main level, but he must be close. He will most likely need urgent medical attention._

_Gotcha,_ Wally replied, every muscle coiled, ready to race down the side of the building and into that library.

_Superboy and I will take the second floor of the library,_ M’gann said.

“Aw, I guess we’re stuck with basement then,” Wally muttered to Artemis. “I hate basements.”

“Stop being such a wuss,” she scoffed back at him. “The way I see it, we probably have a better chance of finding Robin anyway. Come on.”

Without another word, he snatched her up in his arms and zipped down to the door. Artemis pushed him away and staggered a few steps. “Would you _quit_ doing that?” she hissed.

Wally shrugged, then put his ear to the door.

She walked past him to the window that Kaldur and Batman had used. He offered to give her a leg up, but she ignored him and scrambled in without his help.

Inside, they both remained in stealth mode as they carefully crept from shadow to shadow.

“…leave the kid out of this,” they heard Batman growl. Both Artemis and Wally froze. They peeked around the next shelf to see Kaldur suspended from the ceiling, and Batman and the Joker in the middle of a face-off.

They ducked back into the shadows. Wally jerked his head toward the other side of the room, and Artemis nodded. They’d go around.

As they sneaked the long way around, they heard the stand-off become a full on fight, but they had no idea who was winning. It didn’t matter, Wally told himself. It wasn’t their fight. Kaldur and Batman could take care of themselves.

They found the entrance to the basement exactly where Batman had said it would be: a small wooden door behind the reference desk near the broken elevator. The door creaked as it opened, revealing a dark stairwell.

Wally swallowed, but resisted the urge to make a joke. Now was no time for silliness. Now was the time to find Robin and get him home.

They descended together slowly, wary of any traps the Joker might have set for them. Wally clicked on his pocket penlight, scanning each step for anything suspicious. When they reached the bottom, they found that the basement had become a huge archive of books in storage. Shelves were crammed tightly against one another so that you couldn’t walk between the rows. Boxes upon boxes of books and magazines loomed in every corner. Dust filled the stale air. _This is no library,_ Wally thought. _This is a mausoleum._

The two of them gingerly poked through the boxes as Wally shone his light around the dead silent basement.

“Hey, look at this!” At Artemis’ whisper, Wally hurried over to where she stood. A narrow passage through the stacks of old books led to a low doorway.

“This is enough to give a dust mite claustrophobia,” Wally muttered as they squeezed their way through to the open door. “Also, definitely a fire hazard.”

They entered the small room, and instantly Wally sensed that something was wrong. He blocked Artemis from going further and sent his penlight beam across the interior, revealing a metal table surrounded on three sides by counters. Obviously at one point in the past it was used for sorting books or something, but what made Wally’s heart freeze was the blood smeared over everything.

_ No. Nonononono!_ His heart rate doubled. “He’s…gone!” There was too much blood. He didn’t make it. Joker did experiments on him or something. He’d lost his friend forever. Too much blood. “Nonononono!”

“Shh!” Artemis slapped her hand over his mouth. “I know it’s bad, but look again. There’s some important evidence here! You can panic later, but right now I need your help. Robin once told me to ‘get traught or get dead.’ You know what that means?”

Wally blinked at her, trying to stay focused.

“It means get out of panic mode, find a solution, and make it work.” She rubbed her neck and looked away. “At least, that’s what I understood it to mean.”

Wally forced himself take a slow, deep breath. “Okay. What do you see?” He tried to look back into the room, but all he could see was the blood on the table, the floor…

“Bandages on the far counter,” Artemis murmured. “Field dressing kit. The blood on the floor is fresh, I’d say definitely less than an hour old. And…” She grew pale. “That.”

A broken discus lay on the floor.

Wally cursed. “Sportsmaster!”

Artemis drew herself up. _M’gann, are you there?_

_We haven’t found anything on the second floor yet and I can't sense—_

_Listen, we found where they were holding Robin. Sportsmaster was here. He must have been warned that we were coming, and took Robin away. But this is fresh blood, he can’t be far! Let Kaldur know, will you?_

Wally hovered by the doorway. He forced himself into clue-finding mode, because if he didn’t, he was afraid that he would have a total meltdown. Something caught his eye in the shadows outside the small room. He bent to inspect it. “More blood over here!” he called over his shoulder. “There’s a trail. Let’s go!” He ran ahead through the shelves, sending yellowed papers fluttering behind him.

By the time Artemis caught up to him, he’d found a half-open hatch to a utility tunnel. He pried it all the way open, and together they stared into the darkness.

Artemis put a hand on Wally’s shoulder. “Look there.”

Together they stared at the dark drops of blood on the threshold. Wally itched to run. He couldn’t stand knowing that Sportsmaster was taking his friend farther away with every passing second.

“We should regroup with the others,” Artemis said. “This seems too obvious. Sportsmaster is likely trying to trick us into a dead end, and I don’t want to get ourselves trapped in—“

“You wait, I’m going in!” Wally interrupted, and before she could even finish her sentence, he raced into the tunnel.

Immediately, a wire cut into his shins. He tripped and fell heavily to the stone floor.

Everything exploded.

He instinctively jumped up and ran as fast as he could further into the long tunnel. In that split second with the heat of the explosion behind him, he knew he could easily outrun the blast. But what about Artemis? She’d been right there when he hit the tripwire!

As soon as the noise and heat receded, he spun around and ran back. To his horror, he found that the tunnel behind him had completely collapsed. “Artemis!” he yelled, coughing on the dust and smoke. His voice echoed throughout the creepy tunnel, but she didn’t answer him. He reached out through the mental link. _Artemis, can you hear me?_

Nothing. He clawed at the rubble in front of him, but it was no use. The only way out was through the tunnel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random off-topic announcement:  
A show I worked on at Nickelodeon is out on Netflix as of this weekend! If you like video games, 2D animation, or fun action/comedy, check out "Glitch Techs!" :3 The team I worked with put a ton of heart and soul into all of it.
> 
> /blatant promotion


	12. Tunnel Vision

**Batman**

Batman crouched over Kaldur as he fiercely rubbed his ankle. He still held the sturdy knife he’d used to cut him down from the ceiling. He supposed the kid’s foot was numb from the rope. But Aqualad caught his eye and nodded once, signaling that he was ready to attack.Always eager for the next move… just like Robin.

They leapt forward as one.

The Joker, however, turned and ran a few feet, then dodged Batman’s batarangs by zigzagging down a parallel aisle of shelves.

Before they could pursue, the floor beneath them rocked from some subterranean explosion.

_Dick. _Bruce suddenly felt helpless. He had the horrible inkling that Dick had been in or near that explosion.

Laughter echoed around them again. “I hear you had someone go after the bird while you and Guppyboy here kept me occupied! But of course we thought of that.”

“You and Sportsmaster? I know you have been working with him. How much did you bribe him to be your accomplice?” Aqualad said confidently as they continued to move forward into the shadows. He must have been in contact with the other members of his team through Miss Martian’s mental link. One of them may have found more evidence of the collaboration and reported it to their leader.

Joker fake-gasped from somewhere behind them. “Oh, clever fish! You really should keep this one _around!_” The empty shelves behind them toppled, crashing into Batman’s back. He stumbled under the sudden weight. The knife in his gloved hand flew out of his grip and clattered to the floor. The Joker reemerged from the shadows and scooped it up.

Kaldur took the opportunity to charge the villain, but the Joker merely stepped back, grabbed the boy’s arm as he ran past, and heaved him into the wooden supports for the shelves.

Batman threw off the last few shelves from his shoulders, ready to spring to Kaldur’s aid. But the Joker stabbed down with Batman’s own rope-cutting knife, and Kaldur grunted in pain. The webbing between his fingers was completely pierced through, pinning his hand to the shelf support. Batman could already see the beads of sweat from shock and pain on Kaldur’s brow.

“Ah, Batsy, isn’t it good to have another kid around to take the fall for you, just like that pathetic little bird of yours?”

That did it. His low growl tripled into a full roar of hatred. He launched at the Joker, yearning to tear off the monster’s arms. One part of his brain, however, remained laser-focused on the urgent question of who might be injured from that explosion, Kaldur’s predicament, and the severity of Dick’s gunshot wound. He could feel the ticking clock beating in the veins of his forehead. Every second Dick went without some kind of medical attention, the less likely he would recover.

He had to end this now.

* * *

**Wally**

Wally waved a hand in front of his face. He couldn't see it. The tunnel he was trotting through was pitch black. He stumbled over something and nearly fell to the cold concrete floor for the fifth time. He gathered himself and continued his rushed walk.

_Why _hadn't he listened to Artemis? He mentally berated himself as he got up and continued his blind journey through the dark utility tunnel. He tried again to contact any of the team through the mental link, but got no response. _Must be out of range of Miss M, _he thought miserably. He hoped that was all it was.

Suddenly he heard distant voices arguing. He couldn't make out any distinct words, but it sounded like the gruff tones of a couple of thugs. He slowed his pace a bit, which was probably good because the next thing he knew, he slammed into a wall.

He groaned quietly and rubbed his face. Now he could see that the tunnel turned right and continued. He saw a faint light bobbing up and down far along it, probably a flashlight. The intermittent light revealed three or four hulking men, who were dragging something behind them.

He could understand what they were arguing about now.

“…I don't like it. If Batman is here, we're in trouble.”

“We just have to stick to the plan. Joker wants the kid out of reach, so we do the job right.” Wally shivered as he realized the man speaking was Sportsmaster.

“I say just leave the kid!”

“Yeah, what's so special about him anyway?”

“We should dump him and disappear while we can still get away! I've heard of what the Batman does to people he doesn’t like. He's brutal!”

“Shut it!” Sportsmaster snapped. “We do the job right. I don't care if the devil himself is after you! You know how much stake I've got in this gig? Besides, the tunnel is sealed off behind us. You heard our little explosion go off.”

The others shifted the weight they were pulling. “I'm not sure the kid will make it,” one of them said doubtfully. “Is he even breathing?”

Wally’s blood chilled. _Hang in there, Rob! _He drew closer, placing his feet as quietly as possible.

Sportsmaster grunted. “We can patch him up again when we're clear.”

“Seriously, I don't think he's breathing. Look!”

Wally charged down the tunnel towards the men, yelling an indistinct battle cry.

Only Sportsmaster engaged him. The man swung a fist at him as the other thugs stepped back in surprise. Wally saw it coming, and ducked under the attack. He dove for the men who were pulling the makeshift cardboard litter. He caught a glimpse of Rob’s pale face, and then he snatched up the litter and ran deeper into the tunnel. He didn't dare run too fast, for fear of jostling his injured friend.

A burning pain ripped through his right arm and he pitched forward from the shock of it, dropping the litter. He clapped a hand over the spot and it came back bloody. He gulped. Sportsmaster’s javelin had cut a deep gash on the outside of his arm.

He tried to grasp at the litter again, but his arm muscles screamed at the attempt, and he yelped. He looked up, panicking now.

Sportsmaster chuckled. “You can’t keep pulling your little friend now, can you?” He slowly walked toward Wally, reaching for some other weapon on his belt. “You better run, before I get your legs, too. Or maybe I’ll just kill you and be done with it. Joker only cares about Mr. Unconscious here.”

Wally reached out for the mental link once more. If he could just make contact with the team, maybe he could fend off Sportsmaster long enough for help. _M’gann, can you hear me?! PLEASE!_ Nothing. He tried to use his comlink next, breaking Aqualad’s order to stay off the line. “Aqualad! Superboy! Batman? Anyone?? Come in! I need backup, like, two weeks ago!”

“Ha, no one can hear you down here. It’s just you and me, boy.”

Wally felt sweat run down his face, blurring his vision. “I need help! Batman! Artemis?” His voice cracked.

“Face it, kid. The signal isn’t gonna work.”

“It’s good enough for me!” A girl’s voice echoed around them.

“Huh?” Both Wally and Sportsmaster jerked their heads up in surprise, but the darkness of the tunnel shrouded the newcomer from them.

The other thugs clumped together in a nervous knot, guns drawn.

Someone small in a dark purple hoodie and bug-eye sunglasses suddenly darted into the faint circle of light around them. She brushed past Wally, whispering urgently in his ear, “Cover your eyes!”

He barely had time to register what she said before he ducked his good arm over his eyes. Something bright flashed, and the thugs screamed.

Wally cautiously uncovered his eyes and suddenly remembered that his goggles had night vision. Stupid. He could have been using it this whole time. He switched it on and saw the lesser thugs turning away in pain and shock. The hooded girl attacked the temporarily incapacitated thugs with a series of vicious (and impressive) kicks.

While she distracted the thugs, Wally crawled over to the fallen litter and gave Dick a quick look-over. His chest didn’t seem to rise or fall. The chaos of the fight around them faded away as he pressed a shaking finger to his friend’s neck. A faint pulse greeted his touch. He was alive. “Stay with me, buddy!” He grabbed a limp hand and gave it a squeeze. “You’ll be okay. You hear me?”

Wally glanced back at the fight. To his surprise, his mysterious rescuer seemed to have everything under her control. The lesser thugs were all groaning or in various stages of unconsciousness. She flipped over Sportsmaster’s sloppy attack and used what looked like pepper spray on his eyes. He howled in frustration, but the spray had done its work well, as he groped blindly for his strange attacker. She kicked the back of his knees and helped him lose his balance with a push to his shoulder.

_Huh._ Wally thought. _She’s good._

She tugged him up by his good arm. “Come on. We don’t have much time. Help me pull him!” She picked up one side of the litter as Wally took the other. Together they pulled Robin further down the tunnel.

“There’s a breakaway utility tunnel just ahead,” she panted as they hurried through the darkness. “We might be able to get him out that way.”

With the night vision enabled in his goggles, Wally spotted what the girl was talking about. With a little luck, they could make it before the thugs realized what happened. He forced himself to keep the litter as steady as he could. They reached the tunnel and turned into it. An open door waited for them. Wally saw a small utility room beyond, with a dim florescent light on inside.

They hurried inside, and as soon as Dick’s litter was past the doorframe, the girl shut and barred the door with a piece of metal pipe. She turned and gasped when she saw Wally.“Wait, are you Kid Flash?”

He took a step back. “Uh… yeah? And you are?”

She shook her head. “No time now. We gotta get him out of here.” She darted to a staircase that led up to a utility hatch. “This is the way I got in. We should be able to carry him out.”

He should probably question her further, but there were more pressing things to worry about. He leaned over Dick’s face. It was too pale and drawn with pain. “I don’t know if moving him is a good idea.”

Something slammed into the door behind them, shaking loose a layer of dust. It held, but Wally knew it was only a matter of minutes before Sportsmaster or his cronies broke through.

“We don’t have a choice,” the girl said. She climbed up, pushed the manhole cover away and poked her head outside.

Wally carefully tugged his friend closer to the stairs. Dick groaned and he winced. “Sorry, man,” he said softly.

Another heavy _thud_ against the door. Now he heard shouts outside. The thugs were regrouping.

“Should I just carry him up, then?” Wally asked nervously. “I don’t know if I can, with this arm…”

The girl dropped down next to Dick. She gasped. “No! He’s stopped breathing completely!”

Wally’s panic rose again, but before he could say anything, the girl had grabbed his good shoulder with an iron grip.

“You’re fast, go get help! I’ll start CPR.” She turned away and pushed her hood back, kneeling next to Dick. Red hair tumbled out around her shoulders.

He’d seen that red hair before. “You! You’re that girl—“

“GO ALREADY!” she yelled.

He didn’t need to be told again.

* * *

**Barbara**

Once Wally—Kid Flash?—was gone, she reached over and pulled the black mask off Dick’s eyes. She checked to make sure his airway was clear. Her father had insisted that she learn CPR, just as he’d made her take Judo lessons, learn a variety of first aid techniques, and always carry pepper spray and a taser. She supposed that being police commissioner in a city like Gotham made him extra protective of his only daughter. She never thought these things would ever have a practical application. But here she was, having held her own with a dangerous criminal and his men, now providing breath for one of her closest friends.

Who she apparently didn’t know at all.

The black domino mask haunted her. Why had Dick been wearing a mask? And she couldn’t believe that Wally the goofball was actually Kid Flash! _Alfred neglected to mention a few things_, she thought wryly. All he’d told her was that the Joker was holding Dick near the library, and that Wally was helping with a rescue mission. The tunnel had been all her, though. She had once wanted to be a librarian, so she’d studied this building’s architecture and history, which was how she’d known about this backdoor tunnel entrance. The explosion had only confirmed that she was on the right track. But it didn’t explain why Wally was Kid Flash and what Dick’s mask meant.

She didn’t have time to wonder about it now. She placed her hands on Dick’s sternum and started compressions.

_Come on, Dick…_

* * *

**Batman**

He had the Joker backed up against a wall now. Together with Kaldur’s unflagging determination, he’d thrown every attack at the elusive clown until they flushed him out of the rows of shelves. Exposed now, the Joker used the threat of the memory gun to keep them at bay, cackling maniacally the whole time.

But Bruce wasn’t about to let that stop him. He intensified his attack, and tore into the Joker’s plum jacket as he slammed the man’s arm against the wall, forcing him to drop the gun. It skittered away on the hard floor.

“Give up,” he grunted.

“Haven’t you learned by _now_, Batman?” the Joker keened. “I always have another trick up my sleeve!” He reached into his sleeve and pulled out a knife, with which he then sliced Batman across the face before jabbing it into his neck.

Batman drew back for a moment. His armor had protected him from any serious damage, but he reached for the knife and discovered that it had indeed found his skin. He pulled it out and threw it to the ground.

The Joker hurled a handful of razor-sharp playing cards at Kaldur, who deflected them with his water bearers. Then he dove for the memory gun.

Kaldur tried to kick it out of his reach, but the Joker only slid in like a baseball player into home base and grabbed it. He then fired the device at Aqualad, who quickly dodged.

The Joker shrieked with laughter as he escaped back into the maze of shelves.

“Don’t let him get away!” Batman yelled.

But Kaldur just stood perfectly still and tense, as if confused by something.

Bruce’s spine tingled with fear. “Aqualad?” he said gruffly. _No, not him too…_

Kaldur’s shoulders slumped as he sighed. “Wally has made contact.” The relief was short lived as he went on. “They have found Robin. He is alive, but badly hurt.”

His attention snapped to Kaldur’s words, though he could still hear the Joker’s retreating footsteps, pulling him from the good news.

“It seems our help is needed. Robin is not yet out of danger.”

Batman grunted. “Go,” he said. “I’ll take care of the Joker.” Without waiting for a response, he took off after the escaping clown.

* * *

**Rob**

A cough, a sharp pain in his chest, and then he realized that he must be awake. The floor was cold, too cold. He shivered. His shirt and mask were gone. He hated how he felt numb and hot at the same time, but that was the least of his worries. His back and head and chest _hurt _with every cough and gasp for air.

Something tugged at him and he jerked automatically.

“Shh,” someone said close to his ear. “I’m just re-bandaging your wound, stupid. You’ve lost a lot of blood, so moving isn’t a good idea right now. Not to mention you somehow got yourself a nasty concussion.”

He blinked, trying to see the owner of the gentle but firm voice. He caught a glimpse of red hair, a purple sweatshirt, and watery green eyes. Something new tugged in his chest—not a pain from his wound, but something else, right below his sternum. He wanted this girl to be familiar to him, but she wasn’t.

He tried to ask who she was, but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate. He managed a pathetic moan. The girl suddenly tensed and put a finger to his lips.

Heavy footsteps clomped nearby, echoing in the cramped space. Where was he? All he could see were the shadows of pipes on the wall, and there was some kind of metal staircase above them, blocking out the little light there was coming from a half-open manhole in the ceiling.

He stifled another cough. The girl crouched over him, as if trying to protect him.

Something banged, and the footsteps suddenly got louder. His brain analyzed the quality of the steps and told him that it was two or three muscular thugs, probably armed.

“I know you’re in here, kiddies,” a man said.

“You don’t think they went out the manhole?” another asked.

“With the brat’s injury? They’d be stupid to try.”

The footsteps shuffled about some more. Then a blinding light flashed toward them. Rob instinctively turned his head away, and the girl gripped his good shoulder, holding him down.

“Found you,” the man said. “Get out of the way, girlie.”

“Uh, no.”

A gun clicked. “Fine. Have it your way.”

In that long moment he panicked for this random girl he didn’t know. For all he knew, she could be trying to kidnap him for her own purposes. But for her to so bravely face down an armed thug to protect _him… _well, it felt like his chest was being stabbed with a butter knife. And he wasn’t even sure how he knew what that might feel like.

Something breezed past just as the gun fired. The bullet flew off-target, striking the concrete wall with a _crack_. He turned to look and tried to follow what was going on, but it seemed his eyes were too slow to track the red and yellow blur. What _was_ that? In a few seconds, all of the thugs were disarmed. The blur skidded into the corner where Rob and the girl waited. A lanky red-headed teen dropped the weapons beside them.

The girl frowned at the newcomer. “I thought you were injured!”

“I heal fast.”

A split-second later, someone else yelled and cannonballed through the open manhole. Rob blinked in amazement as a big angry dude in a black shirt ripped into the thugs, pushing them back from the stairs.

“Who ‘zat?” he managed to mumble, but neither the girl nor mister fricking Lightning McQueen heard him.

Then a strange, calming presence washed over him. He blinked, trying to remember why his heart was racing.

A green-skinned girl with red hair floated down through the manhole. He wanted to wonder about her strange ability to fly, but he was finding it hard to focus. Was every redhead in the city going to come rescue him tonight? Not that he’d mind.

_Robin, it’s all right._

He tensed again. _Robin. That’s what Batman called me, back in Wayne Tower._

But the overwhelming _calm_ washed over him, and he felt his body fully relax, despite his fears.

The alien girl nodded to the kid in yellow. “I’ll get him out.”

And then came the wondrous sensation of his body leaving the cold floor behind. He was floating up, up, up… _Is this what dying feels like?_


	13. Getaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things don't exactly work out the way anyone wanted, and more than one person eludes the Team.

**Batman**

The Joker seemed to know exactly where he was going, which disturbed him to no end. He was always a wild card.

He seemed to be leading him deeper into the maze of abandoned bookshelves. But he couldn’t, _couldn’t_ let him get away this time. Not after what he did to Dick.

Batman turned a corner around a metal shelf and came face-to-face with the memory gun. And the Joker was holding the trigger, grinning from ear to ear.

“Ta-ta, Batman!”

Batman automatically swept up his cape with one arm, to protect his head. The beam blasted into it and was absorbed by the thick black cloth. At least that worked.

He ducked back behind the metal shelf and heaved all his weight into it. The shelf toppled over into the next one, and the next one, and so on, like dominos. He hoped that the Joker would be trapped behind the heavy shelves. The noise of collapsing units resounded through his bones. Some metal shelves broke free of the mess and flew towards him, so he fired a grappling hook to carry him out of range, up to the ceiling.

From his new vantage point, he scanned the destruction he’d caused. Dust clouded everything, swirling in the disturbed air, but he saw no other movement. He slowly lowered himself down to the floor again. He carefully picked through the shelves on the floor, but after several minutes of searching, he still hadn’t found the Joker. Experience told him that the villain had escaped. Again.

He didn’t let himself dwell on that, though. He turned toward the exit and didn’t look back. He had to ensure Dick was okay.

* * *

**Rob**

He was fully awake now. He lay on a rough, hard surface. A road? The sky was nearly dark, lit by a few flickering streetlights. He wasn’t sure if they were actually flickering, or if his vision was unreliable. His back and shoulder throbbed in time with his heartbeat. His chest hurt, as if it had been bruised. He shivered from the cold, due to his exposed torso. He wished he still had his shirt.

“Is he okay? Should I call an ambulance?” a boy’s voice asked.

“Yes, please. He needs all the help he can get.” That was the calm female voice he’d heard in his head earlier.

“Is he all right?” another guy asked.

“His mind is foggy,” the girl said. “I don’t think we should move him too much. I believe he may be in shock.”

Rob finally coughed to let them know he was awake. “I can hear everything you’re saying, you know,” he croaked. “I was shot in the back, not the ears.”

That shut them up.

He tried weakly to push himself up and failed. “Help me up,” he said firmly.

“But you’re badly injured…” The alien girl tried to push him back down, but he swatted her hand.

“At least I’m not outjured,” he snapped back. He managed to sit up, wincing as the movement tugged at his wound again.

He looked around at his rescuers. He counted four. “Lightning McQueen, Green Girl, The Cavalry, and…” He looked at the final person in the group. He was a young man with intense eyes, strange tattoos, and what looked like fins on his legs. “Sharkboy? Is this everyone?”

“So you really don’t remember,” the Cavalry said matter-of-factly. “You don’t know who we are.”

Rob shrugged and then winced at the sharp pain in his wounds from the movement. What could he even say?

The speedster in yellow sighed. “M’gann, please tell me you are in contact with Artemis. I lost contact when the tunnel collapsed.”

Everyone swiveled their gaze to look at the green girl. M’gann.

“I… I lost contact, too. She may have been knocked unconscious.”

Rob frowned. “Are you talking about that redhead in the hoodie? She was just with me!”

“I think you’re confused, Robin,” M’gann said slowly. “Artemis is blond.”

No, he was certain there had been a girl with red hair. She’d bandaged him, right? He looked over at the speedster. “You saw her too, didn’t you?”

The teen looked away. “I think I would remember someone like that.” He was obviously lying.

No one else noticed. They all seemed overcome by some shared emotion. Sadness? Loss? He could feel it all around him.

They looked at each other, and seemed to be communicating somehow. Their expressions changed as if they were having a silent conversation. He shifted, feeling like he’d been left out of something significant.

Then they all looked up in the same direction, all smiling. He looked up to see what had their attention. A good thirty seconds later, a girl ran up to the group. A girl with blond hair and a wicked-looking compound bow. She had a makeshift bandage wrapped around her forehead.

How had the others all known that she was coming? And as soon as she joined them, they all continued to look at each other and gesture as if speaking. All silently.

“Apparently you’re all crazy,” Rob said finally, prompting them to stop and look at him. He glanced at the girl called M’gann. “Also, why are you green?”

She blushed, then burst into tears. The big dude in the black t-shirt awkwardly wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Uncomfortable and confused, Rob slid backwards a bit. He felt like he’d said something terrible, but he didn’t know why she was so upset.

Suddenly, Sharkboy lifted a hand to his ear. “Batman? Go ahead.”

_Batman?!_

A sudden wave of panic washed over him. He forced himself to stay calm outwardly, but inside he felt like he was drowning in tar. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t stop the sweat that broke out on his forehead and clammy skin.

The other teens all looked at Sharkboy, who was apparently their leader. He nodded to each of them. “Batman will explain everything once he has arrived.”

He was coming. Rob could hardly hear anything else. These kids were working _with_ the nightmare that haunted him. What were they planning to do to him? Turn him over to their boss? Was it all a ruse?

He forgot to listen until he heard the words, “Unfortunately, the Joker escaped.”

This caused the whole group to start talking at once.

For the moment, no one was watching him. He scooted back a few more inches. Then a foot. Then a yard. He summoned all his strength and pushed himself to his feet.

Then he ran.

* * *

**Wally**

They were still arguing when Batman arrived. Wally was angry at him for letting the Joker get away, but like the others, he didn’t dare say it to his cowl. The black-caped vigilante swooped down from somewhere above and landed in the midst of their little huddle.

He was furious.

“Where’s Robin?”

Wally was suddenly filled with dread. Even before he turned to look, he knew what he would find.

Nothing. Robin was gone.

He swore, then coughed to cover it when Kaldur frowned at him.

“You told him that I was coming,” Batman growled at them.

M’gann, still teary, nodded. “We didn’t know he would leave. We didn’t know he could even stand up.”

“I’m sure that’s what he wanted you to think.”

Wally steeled himself. “I’ll find him.” Without waiting for an answer, he took off running. He zipped through every alley and sidestreet, sending bits of trash flying in his wake.

But as thorough as he tried to be, the darkness of night made it difficult to be sure he wasn’t missing anything. And somehow, his friend had found a way to hide. For a kid who’d lost his memory, he sure remembered how to disappear.

_You stupid, stupid Dick…_


	14. Leads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rob finds a new furry friend, and Bruce cusses a tiny bit.
> 
> Here's a bonus chapter for the week!

**Rob**

Huddled in a dumpster on its side behind an abandoned pawn shop, Rob finally allowed himself to assess the situation.

It wasn’t looking good.

His gunshot wound needed medical attention. He couldn’t treat it himself because, well, it was on his back. It would likely get infected if he couldn’t get treatment right away. The unknown redheaded girl had done a marvelous job of bandaging him up, but after his brief jog, it had slipped some. He felt dizzy and disoriented, and he knew that his concussion was making it hard for him to focus. He tried anyway.

He needed clothes. His shirt was long gone, and his pants were bloodied and torn. The night air was already chilly, and he knew it would only get colder as the night wore on. He’d covered himself with newspapers for the moment, but that did little against the elements.

He needed to make a plan. Batman was searching for him. That team of random teenagers was probably searching for him. Heck, the Joker was probably searching for him. He had to find a place to hide, heal, and figure out what he was going to do and who he was going to be.

That last one scared him more than anything. Not knowing if he was a hero, a criminal, or just some unlucky kid who wound up in the wrong place at the wrong time… He wasn’t even sure which disturbed him most.

Thunder shook his metal hideaway, and a steady rain began to fall. Great. One more thing to worry about. He slumped against the wall of the dumpster and stared out into the empty street.

At the mouth of the alley, something moved. He sat up straight and stared in that direction. Was it Batman?! His panic started to rise, but he forced it down. He couldn’t jump to conclusions. He watched, straining his eyes in the shadows, but he saw nothing else move. Still he waited, frozen.

Something brushed against his arm and he bit back a yelp.

_“Mrow?”_

He almost laughed out loud. A black cat rubbed her head on his elbow. He hesitantly stroked it. She seemed sleek and well cared-for, not a mangy stray. Then what was she doing in such a seedy alley? He pushed his shaking fingers through the cat’s fur and realized he didn’t really care.

A low whistle caused both of them to look up. The cat nuzzled him once more and dashed off again. He was sorry to see her go. The dumpster felt colder and more abandoned than before.

Another sleek figure dropped onto the jewelry store across the street. Too big to be a cat, yet it moved like one. The person effortlessly cut through a window and dropped inside the darkened store.

Only a moment later, the mysterious figure returned through the window, holding a small sack in one hand. A thief! Now he could see she was a woman, but beyond that he couldn’t tell due to her catlike black bodysuit. The woman bent down to stroke the black cat who had befriended him. Then she looked up, directly at his hiding place.

Rob froze, knowing that she couldn't possibly see him in the deep shadows of the dumpster. Still, he held his breath.

She turned away at last and slowly walked away, her steps lithe and controlled, like a predator stalking prey. A shiver ran down his spine. But there was something about her, something that called to him. Perhaps it was because of the tenderness with which she had stroked the cat, or the quiet confidence with which she carried herself, or the fact that she’d boldly stolen something from that jewelry store…

He found himself crawling out of the dumpster, limping down the alleyway. His brain was too foggy to come up with a good reason for his actions. He was just moving because it felt right. Maybe because he was afraid that if he fell asleep in that dumpster in the rain, he’d never wake up again.

His body protested every step, but he managed to keep the dark shadow of the catlike thief in view as he followed her down the abandoned street. Part of his brain murmured that she was dangerous, he should be watching for traps, but he couldn’t work up the energy to care about that. He tripped over a metal can, and it clattered loudly.

He tried to melt back into the shadows, but he knew the sound should have alerted the thief. Why didn’t she run? She had to know he was there. She continued picking her way down the street, not looking back. Warning bells kept chiming in his head, but he continued to ignore them. Where was she leading him? Curiosity got the best of him, and he followed carefully.

After a short distance, the thief turned down a side street with some old brick apartments. He stopped at the corner and peered after her. She jumped up on a fire escape and climbed to a balcony three floors up. She disappeared through the window.

Rob shivered in the rain. Now what? A tortoiseshell cat crept out of the shadows and stared at him with owlish yellow eyes. He swayed. His feet were too heavy to move.

A warm light flicked on in the apartment the woman had just entered. He felt drawn to it. One step forward. The cat scampered back toward the fire escape and jumped up on a windowsill, as if showing him the way. Another step. He found himself reaching for the fire escape ladder. It was just out of reach for him. He looked around and saw a peach crate under a window. He dragged it over and stood on top of it. Now he could reach the ladder. It groaned softly as he pulled it down. He started to climb. Every time he reached for another rung, his muscles screamed and his wound throbbed.

He finally reached the balcony outside the third floor apartment. That’s when his muscles revolted and sent him sprawling to the cold, wet metal.

He lay there, the icy rain collecting on his back. The warm glow of the light from the window seemed so far away, outside his reach. He wanted to curl up to keep himself warm but he couldn’t. He couldn’t get his mind to focus, or his body to move.

A feminine voice murmured nearby, “Now aren’t you a handsome little stray?”

He gave up and slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

**Batman**

By early morning, it became clear that both Robin and the Joker had managed to escape. Batman sent the younger heroes to return to the mountain and rest.

“There’s nothing more you can do here,” he told Wally, who protested amid yawns. “I will continue the search alone.”

“_Not alone,” _Alfred’s mild voice in his earpiece reminded him. “_I shall continue to assist you from the cave.”_

When the team had left him, he decided to try a new tactic. They had been methodically combing the city for any evidence of Robin. Now he could be more precise and base his search on certain parameters. It was time to think over the massive list of scenarios in his mind.

Robin had shown that he still had certain skills that he had learned over the years: his honed reflexes, physical stamina, and hacking ability. He still had his innate traits like his wit, intuition, and fascination with wordplay. How much had he retained about Gotham City? Did he remember any of their old safe houses or emergency boltholes?

Or would he seek out a person? His heart skipped a beat when he thought _Bruce Wayne_, but then he pushed the thought away.

_“Sir, if I may,” _Alfred’s voice cut in. _“I believe I may have a lead on the Joker.”_

He sighed. As dangerous as the Joker was, he found that he almost didn’t care. Robin was more important right now. “Go ahead.”

_“I’ve been tracking the social media feeds all night, and I’ve found that the Joker is being mentioned quite a bit more than usual.”_

He grunted. “And..?”

_“There’s a new account that claims to be run by the man himself, and it has issued personal threats to many high-profile Gothamites, with the phrase ‘#MemoryServesMe’ at the end.”_

He turned toward where he’d left the concealed Batmobile. “I’m on my way back. I need to think about what Joker’s game might be this time.”

_“I’m not sure even the Joker knows that sometimes, sir.”_

He sat heavily in the driver’s seat. “That’s what makes this whole thing so damn hard.”


	15. Selina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rob meets his new hostess, Barbara has a close call, and Bruce postpones a meeting with someone he wants to avoid.

**Rob**

He didn’t want to open his eyes. A massive headache had crept over him while he was unconscious, and now that he was awake, it raged behind his temples. The annoying Twenties jazz music certainly didn’t help.

A woman was singing along.

Something warm and rough tickled his forehead. He sat up and squinted against the too-bright lights. A nearby cat jumped back, startled out of licking him.

The woman stopped singing. “The stray awakens,” she murmured. “You like my patch job? You know what, don’t answer that.”

He swung around toward the sound of her voice. Sunlight streamed through the balcony window and silhouetted the slender figure walking toward him.

“There wasn’t time to get you to a hospital, so I took matters into my own hands. Let’s just say that you’re lucky I’ve spent so many times volunteering at animal hospitals. You don’t watch that many surgeries without coming away with a few practical field skills.”

He frowned, trying to make sense of her words.

She sat on the arm of the sheet-covered couch he’d been sleeping on. A black-and-white cat immediately jumped on her lap, and she stroked it as they regarded each other. Now he could see her clearly. Her lithe body hid the muscle well, but he knew that she would be a formidable opponent. Her tousled black hair was cut in a pixie style, and her large dark eyes watched him with the sharp intelligence of a predator.

They stayed like that for a good minute. Then his stomach gurgled.

“Oh, all right,” the woman said lightly.

He smiled in spite of his suspicion.

As she retreated to the kitchen, the cat at her heels, He used the opportunity to take stock of his situation. Aside from the pain in his head, he felt surprisingly comfortable, dressed in a large T-shirt and athletic shorts. His wounds had been cleaned and expertly bandaged. He suspected that some of them had been stitched. He saw a hot pack on the side table, and a book facedown on the armchair next to his couch.

He was also covered in cat hair.

In a few moments, the woman returned, bringing a tray with toast and steaming tea. She returned to her spot on the arm of the chair and watched him eat. He avoided her eyes, focusing on chewing and swallowing through his headache.

When he’d finished the toast, she finally spoke again. “Mind telling me how you got so banged up, kiddo?”

He flinched. “Who are you, first?”

A long moment passed as she stared at him, unblinkingly. What was she thinking? He couldn’t tell. At last she nodded, but the stern gaze didn’t waver. “My name is Selina. What about you?”

He tried to brush cat hair off his shorts. It was surprisingly stubborn stuff.

When she realized that he wasn’t going to answer, she just sighed. “Look, if you’re not going to talk to me, fine. But please understand, I only want to help you.”

He frowned. “You’re a thief.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Now that’s interesting. Why would you say something like that?”

“I saw you. You know I did.”

“Does it matter?”

“I… I guess not.”

They stared at each other for another long moment.

She hummed to herself. “Yes…”

Something about the way she said that made him uncomfortable, like she was a cougar about to pounce on him.

But then the moment passed, and she jumped lightly off her perch. “Runaway, huh?”

“What? No! I mean…” He hesitated. “I guess I don’t know.”

Her sharp gaze was back on him, and he instantly regretted his words. “You’re one of those poor souls who got wiped, aren’t you? I see. That explains a lot.”

What? There were others like him? He wondered if that was true, or if she was just messing with him. Either way, he didn’t trust her. There was something she was keeping from him, he could see it in the way she plastered a fake smile on her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She knew something.

“Uh, thanks for the help and the toast,” he said. “But I really should go.” He set aside the tray and tried to stand.

His legs gave out.

She watched him, unmoving.

“You knew that would happen,” he groaned from the rug.

“You had to find out for yourself,” she said. “You’ve been out for a whole day and night. I expect it will take many more days for you to recover from that wound of yours.”

He sighed. “What should I do?”

The woman—Selina—laughed. “Why, stay here with me, of course! What else?”

He didn’t like how she looked at him then. Not with pity, thank goodness, but something closer to appraising the value of a rare coin. What did that mean for him? Who was this woman?

Selina helped him back up to the couch, her sharp nails digging into his arms as she gripped him. Something was off about her.

But she was all he had at the moment.

“Thank you,” he said at last. “I probably owe you my life.”

She hummed again in satisfaction. “Yes, you certainly do.”

* * *

**Barbara**

Barbara couldn’t sleep. It had been two nights since that awful rescue attempt. She turned Dick’s domino mask over in her hands as she stared out her bedroom window, waiting for her father to come home. The many threats issued by the Joker on social media had caused the Commissioner no end of headaches. He had too many people to protect.

So far, the threats included everyone from the mayor’s wife to the local news anchors. Even her father had been mentioned by name, and that was enough to keep her up at night.

She glanced at the corner of her room, where an unassuming cardboard box held her secret project. Her father was far too busy to guess at what she was up to, but it still made her uncomfortable to keep secrets from him.

The mask. It had set her off. She might have been able to overlook Wally’s Kid Flash costume, but the fact that even Dick was involved somehow pushed her over the edge. She couldn’t let a thirteen-year-old kid outdo her, even if he was her best friend.

Batman couldn’t seem to handle things on his own, so she would take matters into her own hands.

A car door slammed shut, and she peered outside again. Her father had parked on the street. He glanced up at her window as he walked toward the apartment. She breathed out the tension she’d been holding in all evening. Finally. It was well after midnight, and while the Commissioner often stayed at work late, working on difficult cases, she usually didn’t have a reason to worry so much.

She tucked Dick’s mask in her bedside table and got up to go greet her father and say goodnight.

Her window suddenly shattered from an explosion right outside the building. She ducked her face into her elbow, but several shards caught her on her cheeks and neck, as well as her forearm. She automatically fell to the floor and rolled under the bed.

“Barbara!” her father screamed from somewhere distant. Moments later, she heard frantic footsteps pounding toward their apartment hallway. Then he was inside. “Barbara! Can you hear me?”

She carefully crawled out from under the bed. Her window was a jagged maw with the darkness of the night sky beyond it. She could hear distant sirens. She limped around the broken glass and debris toward her bedroom door.

“Dad!” she coughed. “I’m okay!” She gingerly inspected her bleeding face and arm. “Well, mostly.”

Jim Gordon burst around the corner into her room, wild-eyed and disheveled. He had his right hand over a cut in his upper arm that had bled through his fingers already.

“What happened?” she asked, and she heard her voice shake from the shock.

“My car was rigged,” he said, and stopped to wrap her in a tight hug. “I’m glad you’re okay, hon.”

She pushed away. “Your car?” She raced to the broken window.

“Babs, wait! The glass!”

She hopped around the majority of the debris. She looked down to where her father’s car had been parked only moments before. A burning mess of twisted metal had taken its place. “A car bomb?” She shuddered. “And you’re worried about me? You could have died!”

“Well,” he said grimly. “Let’s be glad traffic was unnaturally light tonight.”

A dark shape in the sky caught her eye. “It’s Batman!”

The caped vigilante swooped in toward their apartment. Barbara took a step back as he jumped in through the broken window, boots crunching on the broken glass on her floor.

“Commissioner,” he growled. Then he nodded at her. “And family.”

“Batman,” her father said evenly. “What do you know about this attack? Is this the Joker’s doing?”

“Not directly,” Batman said. “Though he was involved indirectly, I believe. Sportsmaster is trying to get the Joker’s attention.”

“Because the Joker dumped him after his plan for Wayne Enterprises failed?” Barbara blurted out.

Batman seemed to really see her for the first time. “No. The plan worked, but the Joker tricked him and cut him out of the small fortune they managed to steal from Wayne. Then he disappeared. Sportsmaster has been going after each of the high-profile Gothamites threatened by the Joker. I’ve been able to stop most of the attacks. Except this one.”

Barbara longed to ask about Dick Grayson, but if she revealed that she knew something about the goings-on at the library, her father would get suspicious. Besides, she didn’t know how much Batman knew or cared about Bruce Wayne’s lost kid, mask or no.

Her father sighed and rubbed his stubbly face. He suddenly looked ten years older. “Thank you,” he said wearily. “I appreciate your—“ He stopped, and she realized that they were alone again.

* * *

**Bruce**

The sun rose and fell several more times before Alfred voiced his concerns.

“You really ought to take better care of yourself, Master Bruce. You’ll do no one any good if you haven’t slept or eaten or… bathed.” Alfred sniffed appraisingly as he opened the curtains to Bruce’s bedroom, letting in the weak daylight. “I daresay you’ll catch a fever from all that night air if you don’t take a rest now and then.”

Bruce sat up in bed and rubbed his exhausted eyes. “I did try,” he admitted. “But I can’t sleep knowing that the Joker is out there, plotting some crazy scheme to take down Gotham.”

“I don’t believe Gotham is his aim, sir,” Alfred said pointedly.

“You’re absolutely right, Alf. He may plot to bring down Gotham, but only if it will hurt me personally in some way.” Like taking out Dick.

Alfred nodded and absent-mindedly dusted the windowsill with his fingers. “It’s almost noon, sir. Would you like me to cancel your one o’clock appointment with Miss Kyle and her lawyers?”

Bruce groaned. “What was that about, again?”

“I believe you offered to help her through some personal legal issue or another. Last time, your meeting with her took a _very_ personal turn, if you recall.”

“Hmm.” Bruce did recall, but he wasn’t about to let Alfred tease him about it in his dry way. And he certainly didn’t have the energy to deal with Catwoman on top of everything else. “I may have bitten off more than I can stand to chew right now. Please convey my apologies to Selina, but we’ll have to postpone until things have, uh, been resolved.”

“Very well, Master Bruce. I shall express your deep regrets on the matter.” Alfred adjusted the silver tea tray on the bedside table and took his leave.

He had another reason to avoid her. Selina liked Dick. If she found out that he was missing, she’d be furious with him for letting it happen.

And he couldn’t blame her.


	16. Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rob follows Selina around to some very interesting places and gets way more than he bargained for.

**Rob**

After several long days of rest and good food, Rob could walk about unaided again. When he finally found enough energy to go exploring, he was alone in the apartment. His hostess had left earlier, instructing him to do some gentle recovery exercises and not touch anything.

He ignored this and picked up a Chinese vase near the entry. It was rare, probably hundreds of years old. What struck him was that everything here had something to do with cats. Even this vase had a stylized cat glazed on its surface.

He hadn’t seen a computer anywhere in the apartment, but he suspected that Selina had more tech than she let on. After all, she was certainly a thief.

_Like me?_ He wondered if he had ever run into the woman before. There was something about the way she looked at him that made him think she knew something. But was she truly friend or foe? If only he could find a computer!

He heard a soft click, and he quickly set the vase back on its pedestal. He spun around to see Selina entering the apartment. She hardly glanced at him. Something about the way her lips were pressed together gave him the impression that she was upset. But she said nothing.

“Uh, welcome home?” he said tentatively.

She huffed and threw her purse down on the table in the kitchenette.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked. “I mean, I promise I didn’t break anything.”

She gave a short, humorless laugh. “No.”

“Ooookay, then.” He rubbed his wounded shoulder.

“Stop that!” Selina snapped. “You’ll make it worse!”

He quickly lowered his arm. “You’re planning something big, aren’t you?” he said as he sat at the table. He leaned forward, trying to read her face. “Some kind of heist, maybe? But things aren’t going well. You’re not getting the information you need, perhaps?”

She sat across from him. “I’d forgot—“ She stopped and narrowed her eyes. “You’re a sharp one.”

He shrugged, then winced at the sudden pain. He had to stop doing that.

She regarded him thoughtfully. “How would you like to be my apprentice, kid?”

“So I can learn to be as enigmatic as you?” He leaned back in his chair, trying to hold back his grin.

She smirked and reached under the table to pull out a hidden remote. Ah. He knew it. She pointed it at a tapestry of a white tiger above the fireplace, and the thick fabric rolled up automatically, revealing a glass case. It housed a black catsuit and various thief tools. “I just need a helping hand,” she said. “And I think you might be exactly the secret weapon I’ve been looking for.”

***

He waited on the ledge of the window, silent as a sleeping pigeon as he waited for Selina’s—Catwoman’s—signal. The exhilaration rising in him felt almost familiar. Had he done this before?

They’d planned for over a week, and she’d put him to work in all the preparations. Every blueprint studied, every camera angle accounted for, it was all to lead up to this night’s activity. And here he was, perched several stories up, about to commit a crime. He was a bit surprised that she didn’t worry more about him reopening his wound, but then again, she did seem preoccupied with something else.

A flash of light from the street below caught his eye. The signal. He quietly pushed open the window, knowing that he only had a minute to disable the silent alarm system in the museum.He hurried inside, wearing a black turtleneck and ski mask. Something about the outfit made him feel jumpy. He knew he looked the part of thief.

He made his way to the alarm box and carefully hacked it with the tablet Catwoman had gotten for him. It wasn’t ideal, but it did the job, especially after he’d had a chance to tinker with it for a day or so. While he was at it, he also patched the video feed for the security cameras. It would loop so that they could roam the museum undetected. When he finished, he slipped back to the window and flashed a small penlight toward the street. All clear.

He went down to meet her on the first floor. She’d already begun the delicate work of cutting into the safety glass where their quarry was housed. She had some kind of reinforced alloy in her gloves’ fingertips, so she could cut with precision.

She worked deliberately, showing him how she worked without dropping the glass.

Moments later, she handed him two small golden cat idols. He could tell by their weight that they were solid gold. He slipped them into his pockets on either side. Some part of his mind told him that it was strange that Selina was giving him the goods. If she really cared about the money, why would she trust a random stray like him to carry these valuable artifacts? Not that he was actually tempted to run. Where would he even go?

The master thief stood and dusted her gloved hands off as she looked down at the now-empty display case. Her mouth quirked in a satisfied smile.

Then it dawned on him. This wasn’t about money after all. The plaque near the case stated:

EGYPTIAN CAT STATUETTES

CIRCA 1350 B.C.

COURTESY OF THE WAYNE FOUNDATION

Wayne. A chill ran through him and he stumbled back a step. Was this Catwoman in league with the Joker? Was this all some sort of conspiracy against Wayne Enterprises? Or…

Catwoman watched him intently through her green night vision goggles.

“Why—“ he began to whisper, but she held up a sharp fingernail and shushed him. Not here. She turned and silently walked away, back toward the exit.

Rob followed her against his better judgement. Something was very wrong about this whole thing, but he had to _know. _

They exited the museum without any alarms or fuss.

Back in Selina’s modern flat, Rob pulled off the ski mask and threw it aside. He was surprised at the intensity of his own anger. “What was that _really_ about?” he demanded of his hostess. “And don’t tell me it was about money, because it _obviously_ isn’t.” He pulled the idols out of his pockets, one after the other, and put them on her glass coffee table. They looked too small and insignificant for the price the black market would probably pay for them.

Selina just picked them up and placed them on her mantel, one on each side, adjusting them so that they were perfectly straight. “There.” She winked at Rob. “They look much nicer here, don’t they?” She pretended to stroke one on the top of its head with a fingertip. “So much happier, too.”

He gaped at her. “No. This isn’t about home decor. Admit it, you’re doing this because it was donated by the Wayne Foundation.”

She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. “Hmm, you don’t say? And why would I do something like that? I hate charity?”

“Because…” He floundered for a moment. “Because you don’t like what they stand for? Or because you don’t like the people who run it, or the person it’s named for…” He trailed off as her features hardened. “Wayne.”

Her attention snapped back to the golden cat statue. “Bruce Wayne, to be precise.” He couldn’t understand the darkness that descended over her features.

He sat on the couch, suddenly exhausted. “Okay.”

“Does that bother you?”

He shook his head slowly. “I guess I have no reason to be bothered by that, except…” He took a deep breath. “Are you working with the Joker?”

She laughed sharply, making him jump. “That clown? I’m actually on Batman’s side of that argument.”

_Batman._ Was she going to turn him over to the shadow, too? He stood up. He couldn’t stay here. He had to escape. This woman was dangerous. He—

“No need to get jumpy, little stray,” Selina said, sounding surprised.

Rob tried to push down his conflicting feelings about both the Joker and Batman, but his heart continued to pound. He paced over to the window where the fire escape was located. “I need to leave.”

“What? Does the Bat scare you that much? What did you do?”

He gasped, his chest tight. “I don’t know.”

In a moment, she was standing beside him. He could feel her gaze on him, but he refused to meet it. She looked out the window next to him. “If you’re that worried about it, I’ll make sure he doesn’t come near here. Besides, he’s likely occupied by the chaos elsewhere in Gotham right now.”

“The Joker.” He finally looked up at her. “Batman. Why do you side with him? Aren’t they both insane?”

She chuckled at that. “Perhaps so. But Batman kept his promise and helped me with a certain problem once. He has a kind of honor.” Her face darkened again. “Unlike some other people I could mention.”

“What did Wayne do, then?”

She sighed. “It’s what he _didn’t_ do. No matter. It’s too late now.” She hugged herself and looked out over the city.Then she shook herself out of the melancholy mood and brightened. “You should probably go to bed, little stray.”

He snorted.

She put her hands on her hips. “Now no backtalk, tiger. You’ve had a full day, and probably way too much activity for those wounds of yours. I should change the dressing now that I think of it.”

He shifted away from her. “I’ll manage on my own, thanks.”

But she blocked him before he could escape back into the apartment. “I’ve had way too much experience with creatures who won’t let anyone help them when they can’t solve their own hurts and problems. Trust me, it never ends well.” She pushed him back into the kitchen and made him sit at the table, ignoring his weak protests that he could take care of himself. “Remember, I’ve had to deal with all sorts of feral critters volunteering at the Gotham animal rescue. They all just need a little helping hand now and then. You’re no different, kitten.”

He gave up and let her fuss over him, both frustrated and amused at her motherlike attention. At times like this, she certainly didn’t seem like a threat. But there was a bitterness in her, a darkness that seemed to fight with the compassion she extended to her clowder of cats and, apparently, him.

“There you are,” she said at last, releasing his newly bandaged shoulder. “Now bed.”

Bed actually sounded good to him now. He retreated to the couch she’d made into a cozy nest for him. The two golden cat statues watched over the room from the mantel. Selina dimmed the lights, humming softly in her dusky voice. Her quiet tune mixed with the echo of the mysterious song in his head.

_“Sweet dreams are winging, like birds they are singing…”_

***

He woke at dawn, disturbed by a cat’s mewing. He shook himself out of the remnants of a sad and beautiful dream. That meow didn’t sound happy.

He sat up and almost reached over to turn on the light, but something stopped him. A sound. The door being pulled closed, the latch clicking, feet in the hall. Selina was going out.

Immediately, he got up to follow her. She kept too many secrets, and she was keeping _something_ from him. He still didn’t trust her, despite the kindness she’d shown him.

He quickly slipped on the blue hoodie and sneakers Selina had bought for him (to match his eyes, she said). He carefully pushed the unhappy cats back away from the door and slipped out. He peered down the stairs and caught the edge of Selina’s stylish jacket retreating downwards.

He followed as closely as he dared, knowing that if she was going far, he’d have to find a way to follow her without being seen.

She didn’t stop at the main entrance, however, but went down into the underground garage. _She has a car_, he realized. He’d never seen her actually use it. _Of course she has a car._ He followed.

She entered the garage and made for a black convertible Jaguar with the top down in the corner. He watched helplessly hidden behind the entry doorframe as she started the engine and the garage door opened. What could he do?

Another resident trudged up the stairs, yawning as he shouldered a biker helmet. He had probably just returned from a night shift somewhere.

Rob’s eyes fell on the motorcycle parked near the door. It was still warm, clicking as it cooled. Perfect. He shouldered past the sleepy man and bumped against him gently, falling off balance a bit to make it look accidental. But in that split second, he mimicked the soft touch of Selina’s clawed hands and deftly slipped his fingers into the man’s jacket pocket. He palmed the key ring he found there.

The man gave him a tired glare, but went on his way up the stairs toward his bed, none the wiser.

He snuck toward the bike, hopped on, and let his instincts take over. Apparently he knew how to start a motorcycle just fine.

The sleek Jaguar had only just left the garage when he got the bike started. He revved the engine and zipped out in the dim morning light just before the gate closed.

Riding on the cycle felt natural. It was a bit unsettling to realize that he’d done this in his old life. He had to focus to keep his attention on trailing the sports car instead of letting the exhilaration of driving the streets of Gotham catch up with him.

He stayed several cars back, hiding behind trucks and buses, but always watching to see which turns she took. When she left the city proper, he was forced to turn off the headlight and stay far behind. She was driving fast, too fast for the winding road. But as he couldn’t see many turn-offs now, he let her get far ahead, just barely keeping her taillights in view.

Then he saw it. The massive and opulent house with the cottage windows and formal gardens rose above the waking city, the remnant of a former glorious era.

He parked the bike behind a hedge and ducked his way toward the front of the house. Selina’s Jaguar was parked haphazardly half on the grass, the door open and the key left in the ignition. Yup. She was mad.

Out of instinct, he didn’t go to the door. Instead, he headed toward a window on the first floor that opened toward the gardens. A sheer gray curtain blew in the crisp morning air, but the dark-paneled room was empty except for a set of old-fashioned chairs circling a round table covered with a sheet. He climbed inside, feeling more than a little uncomfortable. He made his way into the next room, which was some kind of sitting room, complete with an overbearing fireplace that filled one whole wall. It was cold and dark, and again empty.

Was this whole house so dreary?

He heard voices. Someone was yelling. Was that Selina? He followed the sound, careful to check each decorated hall before darting down it. He stopped beside a pedestal that held a jade statue and rolled his eyes. Was this place supposed to be a freaking museum? Who had such huge amounts of money that they could keep priceless artifacts—

The answer came to him. Bruce Wayne. Of Wayne Enterprises and the Wayne Foundation. The man Selina apparently hated at the moment.

“…And while I’m hurt that you didn’t feel the need to offer any sort of reasonable explanation for letting me down the other day, this deserves an answer.“

“Selina, please, I just—“

“No, Bruce, you listen to me, and listen well: you can let me down all you want. Fine. I’ll deal with it. But this is about more than that. It’s about _him_, your responsibility! And you won’t even let me know what’s going on? I can help! Just tell me what happened, please!”

Rob crept closer to the heavy wooden door where the voices were coming from. Through the cracked door he could see a sliver of a dark study or library. Selina was in there. With Bruce Wayne.

And she was spitting mad.

“How did you find out?” a deep, quiet voice asked.

“I have my sources,” Selina scoffed. “Besides, with you so out of sorts, it wasn’t that hard to piece together that something bad happened to Dick. My sources say he was shot in addition to having his memory wiped. How on earth did you let that happen?”

Rob hung on every word of the strange conversation, but the man was now silent. He wished he could see Wayne’s expression. Why didn’t he speak?

“Damn it, Bruce, say something! I know you well enough to know when you’re hurting. Don’t try to hide it from me!”

“You’ve seen him, haven’t you?” There was an urgency in the man’s voice, a ragged desperation. “Please, Selina. Where is he?”

Her voice turned cold and sarcastic. “Oh so that’s what happened. Very helpful, Bruce. If you won’t talk about it, why should I tell you what I know? For all I know, you’re the reason he’s hurt.”

“I can’t deal with this—you—right now. I get it. You have every right to be furious with me. But enough of this taunting. Don’t you think I’ve been awake for days straight, trying to figure out what happened and if it was something I could have prevented? If you know something, anything about his whereabouts… don’t torture me further by dangling it out of reach.”

“Good day, Bruce.” Selina’s voice was ice.

Rob scurried backwards, not wanting her to see him there. But as he scooted away from the cracked door, he backed right into a warm figure dressed in a dark suit. A pair of wiry arms grabbed him, and he yelped in a moment of panic.

He struggled against the mysterious person who held him, but found himself enveloped in a strong embrace.

“Master Richard,” the man said in a husky British voice. “You came back to us!”

Rob stilled in the man’s arms. “You know me?” he said, not sure if he wanted his suspicions confirmed.

The man held him out at arm’s length, so Rob could see his teary-eyed face. The man was oldish, but not ancient. Thin but not weak. Something about him seemed _deep_ somehow, like a stone well of cool water, unshaken and untainted by the cares of the world above.

At all the hubbub, both Selina and her companion burst out of the room into the hall where the older man was regarding him solemnly.

“You,” the older man said, his voice overflowing with a mix of emotions, “are none other than our own Richard John Grayson, come home at last.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun DUN!


	17. Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce faces his hopes and fears... and Selina.

**Bruce**

He stared in shock at the boy who had once been like a son to him.

Dick had lost a lot of muscle, likely due to his injuries and lack of training over the past few weeks. He was thinner than he ought to be, and Bruce found himself thinking again that he would never forgive the Joker for his latest crimes.

But he was alive. Alive!

After his last sight of him, lying in a pool of his own blood, he’d hardly dared to hope that Dick would even survive this. And yet he had.

But seeing him standing there stiffly in Alfred’s arms brought back the realization that this wasn’t _his _Dick Grayson. This was only a reflection of a faded memory, one lost piece of a broken puzzle.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred said. “I think it’s time you all sat down and had breakfast and tea.” The butler looked at Selina. “Including your guest.”

“Alf…“ Bruce began heavily, not sure how he could break it to the man. This wasn’t his “Master Richard.” But he couldn’t get the words out, not when Dick’s intense blue eyes caught his.

“I’m officially whelmed by your house,” he said quietly. “Though I have a feeling this used to be my house, too, didn’t it?”

“It is still your house,” Alfred chided, fussing like a mother hen.

Dick didn’t correct him, but Bruce could see the dark shadow of doubt in his eyes. _He doesn’t trust any of us,_ he realized. And why should he?

“Breakfast would be wonderful, Alfred,” Bruce said at last. “We have a lot to discuss.”

***

Selina’s eyes darted between Bruce and Dick as they ate in silence, stealing glances at each other between bites. Bruce sensed her frustration, but he didn’t acknowledge it. She wanted to keep secrets? Fine. He’d just make her sit and stew as he ignored her.

Alfred watched and waited at the side of the room. Bruce would have asked him to sit and join them at the table, but he knew from years of experience that he would politely decline. It was a matter of principle to the butler. As a child, Bruce half-believed that he never sat down.

“A little polite conversation never hurt anyone,” Alfred said dryly. He might be too formal to sit, but he certainly wasn’t afraid to speak his mind.

Bruce sighed and leaned back in his chair, regarding Dick as he pushed the remaining hash browns around his plate. “I wish I could ask what happened,” he began, noting how the boy flinched. “But even if you did remember, you don’t know or trust me, do you?”

The kid looked up, hesitated, and shook his head.

“At least tell me this: what have you figured out so far?”

“You’re Bruce Wayne, billionaire, founder of charities and giant corporations, and I’m apparently…” Here he looked back at Alfred. “Richard Grayson? But you’re not my father, I was adopted. Or something. You’re apparently not married,” he said with a sideways glance at Selina. “And, I think I ran away. Before the Joker got me. And after that… a lot of bad stuff.”

Selina was holding a hand over her mouth. Bruce could feel her anger at him, even though her attention was still focused mostly on Dick’s “report.” He marveled at how his former partner had slipped naturally into detective mode, trying to piece together what fragments of his life he could identify.

And he was hiding most of what he’d deduced.

Bruce could always tell when Dick was lying. The kid had needed to learn control as Robin, and he’d adapted to the life of secrets and lies as a vigilante, but he was an emotional kid, and Bruce could always see beyond the mask.

But were the lies for Selina… or himself?

Dick fell silent, and Selina latched her attention back onto Bruce. She stood. “Bruce, a word,” she said stiffly. “In private.” She stalked out of the room.

Bruce tried to offer Dick a friendly smile. “We’ll figure this out, chum,” he said, rising from the table. “You’ll see. We’ll get you your life back.”

Dick didn’t even look up at him. “But what if I don’t like who I was? What if you didn’t even know me like you thought you did?”

That stopped Bruce in his tracks. He leaned over and placed a solemn hand on Dick’s too-thin shoulder. “I know that you have a heart to rival Mother Theresa and a wit that can run circles around most people without even breaking a sweat.”

Dick did a one-sided shrug. Bruce gave him a pat and followed Selina out of the breakfast room into the solarium, where Alfred had put a few ferns and succulents. It had once been Martha Wayne’s favorite spot in the house, though when she was alive, it had been bursting with plant life and flowers.

Selina turned to face him, her hands on her hips. She opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind, but Bruce stopped her by holding up a hand.

“First, I want you to explain how you found him, and how long you waited before coming here.”

She huffed. “I found him the night of that rainstorm. The same night the Joker attacked a bunch of people. Is that when it… happened?”

Why had she waited so long to come to him? He quashed his sudden anger. Now wasn’t the time to yell at her, and it was in the past anyway. He let out a deep breath. “No, it was before that. He was the Joker’s first victim, I believe, or among the first.”

“And why didn’t you just tell me you were dealing with this? I would have understood why you didn’t want to see me. But no, you had to keep it all to yourself, when I could have _helped._”

"This is the Joker we're talking about," Bruce said. "I doubt you could have helped much." Though he knew that Catwoman could have. She didn't know he knew. “I’m just glad he’s back.”

"How did he get shot?" she said in a low voice. "I patched him up best as I could, but he really should go to a hospital to get it looked at by professionals."

"I don't know," he lied. "I haven't seen him since he went missing."

A stiff silence fell between them. Bruce refused to offer any more information to her. The last thing he wanted was for the Joker to make her a target as well. None of this really concerned her, though he did wonder how Dick had followed her here without her knowing. She'd obviously been planning to keep him with her. Why?

Did she know that Dick was Robin?

No, he didn't think so. But he would have to keep an eye on her nonetheless.

"Fine." She stalked up to him, poking his chest. "I'll leave you to figure it out on your own, if that's what you really want. But I'll be checking in. Despite what you may think of me, I do care about you and Richard. I'm not going to tolerate being left in the dark." She brushed past him, then stopped at the door. "And please, get him some help. He acts tough, but he's hurting. You can always call me."

"Thanks," he said, and she left him to go say goodbye to Dick.

He waited a long moment before returning to the table. Why? Why couldn't he just go back in there, scoop Dick up in a bear hug, and make everything better? The answer came to him when he realized his hands were shaking. He was terrified.

Terrified he'd mess up, terrified that he'd already lost Dick forever. Terrified that Dick would hate him now. He hadn't the faintest idea of what to do, and that scared him.

And worst of all, he was terrified that Dick would find out that this was all his fault.


	18. Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick Grayson tries to find his feet in his new-old home, and encounters a few faces from his past that he doesn't recognize.

**Dick**

The house was too quiet, too big, too empty. Too rich.

Bruce Wayne was his father. He couldn't quite accept it. He found himself faced with the awkwardness of not knowing anything about his home and "family," if you could even call it that. A billionaire and his butler. _That _was his family?

His mind flashed back to the redheaded girl in the purple sweatshirt, the zippy-fast kid, the green alien and the others. They’d almost acted like a hodgepodge of a family themselves. Had all of that been a fever dream? What did it mean?

Before she left, Selina had whispered to him that Bruce shouldn’t find out about his little mission with Catwoman at the museum. “He can’t know it was us,” she insisted.

He hesitated. She had obviously kept his identity a secret from him, hinting that her motives were complicated at the very least. But her green eyes conveyed a deep level of concern for him. Besides, she’d done so much for him already. At last he nodded, and she gave him a relieved smile.

“I’ll see you soon, then,” she said, and kissed the top of his head. She was gone before he knew it.

He already kind of missed her.

Now he put his hand on the doorknob to what Alfred had told him was his own bedroom. He found that his heart was racing at the thought that he'd have to reacquaint himself with his own living space.

Alfred and Bruce both seemed to think giving him some time to adjust by himself was the best course of action. He wondered what they would do if he just left, just walked out the door and down the road to where the stolen bike was stashed. He could just take off and not look back, reinvent himself if he wanted. Heck, he could even channel Catwoman and take some of the fancy stuff around here and no one would probably notice.

He took a deep breath, and opened the door.

It was smaller than he'd expected, compared to the size of the rest of the house. The first thing he noticed was the prominently displayed poster for the Flying Graysons, which was apparently a circus act of trapeze artists.

"RG4," he muttered, and flopped facedown on the queen-sized bed. It was his own initials. He wasn't a hacker after all. He was just the son of the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, so of course he had his own emergency voice key.

But it still didn't explain the mask and cape. He perked up his head and saw a computer on the desk by the bed. Dare he try to dig into his past that way? What would he find?

He had to know.

Moments later, he sat in front of the laptop, typing "RG4" into the password box.

INCORRECT PASSWORD.

He flopped forward and bumped his head against the desk.

A sudden sound from the window behind him made him jump back up. Someone was there, crouched on the sill. Adrenaline rushed through his veins.

It was _her_. The redhead from that hazy, painful memory in the sewer.

She gasped when she saw him. "I didn't know you're back! You're alive!" She ran toward him, and he automatically stepped backwards into a defensive stance, both fists up and ready to block an attack. She ignored it and flung her arms around him in a fierce hug.

He winced.

"Oh!" She immediately let go. "Are you okay? I forgot!” Then she grinned. "I'm sorry, I just can't help it. You can't believe how hard the last few weeks have been."

He sat hard in his desk chair. "Should I be concerned that you broke into my room through the window?"

"Nah, I've done this lots of times." She rubbed her arms, then sat across from him, on the cedar chest at the foot of the bed. "But you don't even know who I am, do you?"

He shook his head dumbly.

A sad shadow passed across her face. "Oh. Well. Then I'll introduce myself." She took a deep breath, stuck out a hand, and her smile returned. "I'm Barbara Gordon. You often called me Babs."

"Uh, nice to meet you I guess." He shook her hand. "I'd introduce myself, but I have a feeling you already know me pretty well. Maybe I can split the difference and just 'troduce' myself."

She cocked her head to the side. "That doesn't even make sense!"

He stood and bowed with a flourish. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Barbara Gordon. I’ve just learned I’m apparently called Richard Grayson."

"Dick."

He looked up, startled.

"No, no." She blushed. "I'm not insulting you, that's just your name."

"Of_ course _it is."

A sudden _bang _made both of them jump. The door was open, slammed against the wall.

A red-haired kid with freckles stood there, breathing heavily.

"Dick! Thank God you're here!" The teen waited in the doorway, as if he needed permission to enter the room.

"Wally," Barbara greeted him, sounding faintly amused. "You should probably introduce yourself properly."

"Oh. Right." He wiped his hand off on his shorts, then stepped forward to shake Dick's hand vigorously. "I'm Wally West. Your best mate…" He trailed off as he saw Barbara. "Er, one of them, anyway. You can't _believe _how worried we were!" He paced around the room, apparently having too much pent-up energy to sit still longer than a second.

Dick—he still had to get used to thinking of himself by that name—shook his head, trying to understand what was going on here. "Wait, did you climb through a window, too?" he asked the new kid. "Or did Alfred let you in?"

"Oh, Alfie didn't really have a choice," Wally said. "As soon as I heard you were back, I zipped right over. He just had time to open the door and say, 'How can I help you?' and then I said, 'I'm going up to see my buddy,' and I just came inside. It was rude, I know, but-"

"Wally," Barbara said. "Shut up and sit down please."

Wally glared at her, but obeyed halfway. He stayed standing, bouncing nervously on his toes.

"Soooo," Dick said. "You're Wally. And you're Barbara."

“That’s right, Captain Obvious,” Wally interjected, then ducked away from Barbara as she swatted at him with a frown.

Dick fidgeted with a pen he'd found on the desk. "Maybe there's something you guys can clear up for me."

Barbara leaned forward. "Anything. What's up?"

He clicked the pen once, and began doodling on a Post-it pad next to the laptop. His laptop. “You both know already that I can't remember anything from… before. I can't remember you, of course, but also, I can't remember what I was like. I know it's awkward, since I feel like I barely know either of you, but I have questions. Personal questions."

Wally grinned. "I love personal questions." He picked up a glass of juice that Alfred had left on the bedside table for Dick, and slurped it loudly.

Dick took a deep breath. "Exactly what kind of friends are you? Classmates, coworkers, neighbors?” He looked right at Barbara. "Like, are you my girlfriend?"

Wally choked on his drink, spluttering back into the cup.

Barbara turned red and glared at Wally. "Do you mind?"

"No, no, go ahead," Wally said. "I want to hear the answer to this myself!"

"I mean," Dick continued, realizing what he'd just said. "You really don't have to answer that. Sorry. Ack, I just— I don't know what's up and down anymore." It came out angry, and he looked away, not wanting her to think he was angry at her.

"It's okay, Dick. I wasn't sure how to answer because… well, to be honest I've never had to define our friendship before. It's not as easy as slapping a label on it." She thought for a moment. "It’s—here."

She dug out her phone and held it up to show him her lockscreen. It was the two of them, several years younger, at some kind of fair.They had their arms around each other's shoulders, each holding cotton candy. “We've known each other for years, and I thought we shared about everything. But I've recently discovered that I was wrong about that." Her face was unreadable as she glanced at Wally.

Wally waved a hand at her. "Aw, don't be mad, Babsalot. He wasn't really supposed to talk about me."

“Because of your stupid little club? I don't buy it, Wallace."

Dick watched the exchange with confusion and a little bit of amusement. "So you guys are fighting over me? Gosh, I feel so loved."

Barbara rolled her eyes at him. "This friend of yours is impossible. He won't let me in on whatever secret life you two share."

“Secret life?”

A knock at the door made all three of them jump. They all froze, until Dick remembered that this was his room.

"Come in," he called.

Bruce Wayne entered. The affect his presence had on Wally and Barbara was incredible. Wally straightened, as if faced with his commanding officer in the army, and Barbara turned bright red. Probably because she'd climbed in through the window, which was obviously not the way most high society Gothamites entered a building.

Dick stood up to greet his guardian. "I've just met two of my… friends," he said. "Barbara Gordon and Wallace West."

"That's Wally to you, Bub," Wally complained.

Bruce looked at his two guests. "I shouldn't be surprised that you found your way in. I'm just surprised that you knew Dick was back already."

"I have my ways," Wally said. "Most of them start with Al and end with Fred."

"I didn't know he was back," Barbara admitted. "But I've been dropping by just to check every day."

Dick looked at her in surprise. Had she been climbing in through his window each time?

“Wally, I need to speak with you,“ Bruce said. "Alone.”

"Er…" Wally almost dropped the empty juice glass.He managed to catch it and place it safely back on the bedside table. "Sure, Mr. Wayne.” He glanced over his shoulder at Dick and Babs before following Bruce back out into the hall.

"That was weird," Barbara said when they'd left. "Don't you think?"

He shrugged. "I don't have any 'normal' to compare it to, so I wouldn't know if it was that weird."

She sighed. "I'm sorry, Dick, it's going to take some time to get used to all this. I'll do my best to help as much as I can."

* * *

**Wally**

When Batman, er, Bruce Wayne called him out of the room, Wally had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly what this was about.

"Nothing about masks," Bruce said in a low voice, once they were out of earshot of Dick's room. "Don't talk about Batman or Robin or any of the team."

Yup. Just as he thought. "Got it. Zip the lips, throw away the key." Then he frowned. "But you _are_ going to tell him, aren't you?"

Bruce didn't answer.

"Come on, he deserves to know! He's desperate to believe that he’s more than just an empty shell. Talk to him at least!"

"I'll decide when he's ready to hear it, if ever. Besides…" Bruce grew wistful for a moment. "He may still regain his memories."

"He's more likely to remember if you are actually open with him, don't you think?" Wally didn't know how to handle this anger he felt. Was he mad at Bruce? Or the Joker? Or himself? "He's not a glass doll, this is _Dick_ we're talking about. He survived losing his entire family in one night. He can survive this. He can still thrive. You've just got to let him!"

Bruce pressed his lips together, but didn’t give way.

Wally sighed. “I know, I know, he’s your kid. But as I see it, there’s really no benefit to keeping this from him.”

With that, he strode back to the room, shaking with adrenaline.

* * *

**Dick**

Once Wally and Barbara had gone home, Dick felt drained. They hadn’t really talked about much. He guessed they’d avoided bringing up anything related to his lost past. He hadn’t asked. He wasn’t sure yet what he even wanted to know.

Barbara had at least helped him log into his laptop. She didn’t reveal how she knew his password, but he guessed he hadn’t exactly told her, based on how cagey she was about it. But at least he had access to his files, and, of course, Google.

The first thing he searched for was his name.

“Dick Grayson” brought up a bunch of celebrity news gossip articles, some photos of him at what looked like charity events where he stood next to Bruce Wayne with his hair slicked back, an article about the mathletics team at Gotham Academy, and some old posters that matched the one in his bedroom for an acrobatics troupe called the “Flying Graysons.”

He dug deeper, taking notes on the notepad by his computer. Date of birth: 12/01/96. Bruce Wayne was his legal guardian, but hadn’t fully adopted him. Why?

He put down the pen and resumed his search, this time entering in Bruce Wayne’s name, hoping to learn something of value about his guardian.

Most of what appeared in the search feed was useless gossip, a few articles about Wayne Enterprises on business-focused blogs, and lots of pictures of him standing around with wealthy and vapid women.

Curling his lip, Dick opened a new tab. Was this all there was to the man?

The big question was how much did Bruce really know about Dick’s life? He seemed a bit distant. Perhaps he hadn’t even known about what Dick did as a hacker or thief or whatever. But his eyes were so sharp. How could he not know?

He was getting ahead of himself. He didn’t even know what there was to know yet.

Frustrated, he switched his search to focus on Robin. After adding a few search modifiers, he managed to pull up a dark photo of a kid flying through the air in a black, red, and yellow suit with a cape. The same suit he was wearing when he first woke up in the jungle. It was impossible to tell for sure if it was him in that suit. But what stopped him in his tracks was the dark shape flying next to Robin: Batman.

He stared at the image for a good five minutes, drinking in every subtle detail he could, and forcing down the lump of panic that threatened to rise up in his throat. This particular photo was taken outside one of the large banks in downtown Gotham that he’d seen from Selina’s apartment. Both Robin and Batman held the ends of grappling wires. Robin was smiling, possibly even laughing. The caption read “Dynamic Duo After Stopping Armed Robbery.“

Dick shivered.

Okay, so now he had something to go on. The next thing he entered in the search bar was “Who is Batman?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've built up a bit of a buffer of edited chapters, so I figured this was as good a week as any to burn through a few of them! ;)


	19. Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wally thinks he's found a loophole. Dick debates how much he should reveal he knows.

**Wally**

Loopholes were great. He’d figured it all out. Bruce had made him promise not to tell Dick about Robin or Batman. But he hadn’t forbidden him from telling the rest of the Team what had happened to Robin. And if they acted fast, maybe _they_ could tell Dick what he was not allowed to talk about.

He sent them a message via their secure channel, letting them know that he wanted to meet them all at the mountain ASAP. Then he used the Gotham Zeta tube to get there himself.

Conner, M’gann, and Aqualad were waiting for him when he arrived.

“Oh please tell me that you have news about Robin,” M’gann said as soon as he arrived. “We haven’t heard from Batman in days!”

Wally held up his hands. “Hang on, where’s Artemis?”

_“B07—Artemis,” _the computer called as she Zeta’d into the cave.

“I’m here,” she said, stalking toward them. “Now talk.”

“Robin is alive. He’s been found. He’s home with his, uh, family right now.” It was true, if unconventional. Wally waited for their excited chatter to die down before continuing. “He still can’t remember anything. Like, he didn’t even know me when I saw him-“

“You saw him?” M’gann asked. “How was he? Is he recovering from that nasty wound he had?”

“He’s in good hands, don’t worry!” Wally scratched his head. “At least, they’ll take care of him physically. Mentally, I’m not so sure. That’s where you guys come in. We have to help him. Batman won’t tell him anything, the big jerk.”

Aqualad stepped forward. He looked much better than he had right after the fight with the Joker. They’d all been recovering well, except for the intense worry they held for their lost teammate. “What did you have in mind?”

Wally opened his mouth, but before he could lay out his sneaky loophole to talk to Dick about being Robin, they all heard a channel being opened, and suddenly Batman’s face filled the screen in the room.

“Dangnabbit,” Wally said under his breath. He’d been too slow.

“Batman,” Aqualad greeted. “Wally tells us that Robin has been recovered.”

“Yes,” Batman replied evenly. “He has. I should thank all of you for your help at the library. Even though the Joker escaped, it could have been a lot worse. You did good work.”

Wally couldn’t believe his ears. Batman was actually saying “thank you”?

“But how is Robin?” M’gann blurted out. “Please, if there’s anything I can do to help-“

“No. Robin needs time to recover. I think it best to take it slow.”

“At least let us see him,” Artemis said, sounding annoyed. “He’s our friend, after all.”

“Not yet. He doesn’t even remember that he _is_ Robin. Only Wally may see him for now. I’ll let you know when he is able to see the rest of you.”

Wally felt his teammates all look at him with frustration, and it made him uncomfortable. Not to mention that Bruce had ruined his plans completely. “But what if seeing his friends is exactly what he needs?”

“I said no. All you need to know is that he is safe, but confused. He’s reacted strangely to things already, as you saw how he bolted after you rescued him. If he’s too overwhelmed, he could panic and get hurt, or hurt one of you.”

“He can’t hurt me,” Conner said, breaking his sullen silence. “Let me see him.”

Batman hesitated at the suggestion. “Not yet. Soon, perhaps.”

With that, he signed off and left the teens all standing around, feeling helpless and annoyed with their adult supervisor.

“Don’t worry,” Wally said quietly. “Robin’s smart. He’s figured a few things out already. I have a feeling he’ll do his best to outmaneuver Batman. I know Rob.”

“But is he really even the same person anymore?” Artemis asked, voicing the fear that they all had. “Will he ever be the same again?”

* * *

**Dick**

“Okay, but listen,” Wally said, sounding for all the world like he was about to tell a fart joke. “Babsalot, you said you two aren’t a ‘thing’, but I saw you kiss him!”

Dick could sense Barbara’s ire rising, so he quickly jumped in with, “What? Wally, please don’t tease her.”

The three of them were sitting on the couch of the Manor’s den, playing Mario Kart, a game that Dick found he excelled at, though he couldn’t seem to beat Wally. That kid’s reflexes and coordination were ridiculous.

Barbara sent a green shell hurling after Wally and missed.

“Ha!” Wally elbowed her as they went around a curve and she lost control of her kart and tipped off into a ravine.

“Ugh! Wally!”

Wally glanced slyly at her. “Admit it, you were getting kinda cozy when I left you two in that tunnel—“

“That’s not kissing!” Barbara exclaimed, exasperated. “That was CPR.”

“Wait, slow down,” Dick said. He’d done massive amounts of research in the last two days. Even though he’d been barely conscious back at the library, he’d managed to piece together a few things based on what he’d seen and heard in those chaotic moments. He knew Barbara had been there, but he hadn’t broached that subject with her yet. He also knew he’d been saved by some young vigilantes who worked with the team of adult superheroes called the Justice League.

“She saved your life, y’know,” Wally said nonchalantly. “And that’s something even Bruce doesn’t know yet.”

Barbara stopped racing and let everyone pass her. “_Wally!”_ she hissed, sounding pained.

“It’s okay, I kinda knew that already,” Dick admitted. “Well, not that you saved my life, but that you were there that night.”

“Of course you did,” Barbara said, defeated. “I give up. Why do I even bother trying to keep secrets when you two can obviously run circles around me?”

“Speaking of running,” Dick said, turning to squint at Wally. “You’re Kid Flash.”

Wally grinned wildly. Not exactly the reaction Dick had expected. “How’d you guess?”

“Easy,” Dick said, using the opportunity while Wally was distracted to boost his speed, zip past Wally’s kart, and take the lead. “Your hair, for one thing. The fact that you were there—when I’ve done my research and discovered that Kid Flash hangs out with a Martian girl, an Atlantean, and an archer. And…” He broke off as his Baby Rosalina executed a perfect jump. Then he glanced down at Wally’s feet. “And your nervous foot-tapping is way too fast for a normal human being without super-speed.”

“Aw, dang it!” Wally tucked his feet under the skirt of the couch.

“What did you expect, dummy?” Barbara said dryly. “He didn’t lose his observation skills.”

An unfortunate blue shell dropped on Baby Rosalina, knocking Dick out of first place. Wally sailed past him and regained the lead. Final lap.

“So,” Dick said. “Who’s Batman?”

Wally pretended he didn’t hear him, but Dick saw how his hands tightened around his game controller.

“I saw you with him on the news, when they were reporting on Joker’s attack at Wayne Enterprises awhile back. Like I said, I’ve done research. So spill. Who is the mysterious ‘Caped Crusader?’”

Barbara leaned back and folded her arms. “Yeah Wally, do tell.” She was enjoying this far too much.

Wally fumbled a jump. “You know even if I did know, I'd be sworn to secrecy, guys.”

“So you do know?” Dick asked. “But Batman threatened you?”

“Ugh, You're enjoying this far too much.”

“Batman threatened you?” Barbara seemed disturbed by this. 

“Well, not exactly, “ Wally said at last. Every word sounded reluctant. “But he can be kinda scary. Sheesh, I probably shouldn't have admitted to being Kid Flash. He’s gonna be pissed.”

Dick set aside the controller and stood up. He had to pace, and this was far more important than a stupid racing game.

Barbara paused the game.

“Hey!“ Wally said. “I was gonna win!”

“I know,” Barbara said mildly. “But you didn’t have any competition, so it wouldn’t be all that impressive.”

Dick ran a hand through his already-messy hair. “Guys. I need your honest opinion here.”

Wally sobered. “Sure, mate. What’s up?”

Barbara just stuck her hands in the pocket of her hoodie and looked deep in thought.

“I’ve got to know what kind of person this Batman is. I know you’re not supposed to talk about it, but I’m gonna have to insist. Please don’t make me outsist.” He winced. “Sorry. Bad wordplay just comes too easily for me for some reason.”

Wally and Barbara exchanged a quick glance.

“Why do you need to know about Batman?” Barbara asked, sounding extremely curious, and a bit surprised.

“Ugh, I don’t know!” He butted up against the wall by the window and rested his forehead on the wooden frame. “To be honest, he terrifies me. Listen, I don’t even know who I can trust. I want to trust you guys, but…” He couldn’t explain it to them. They acted so familiar around him, but he felt nothing in return. That is, he appreciated their kindness and patience with him, and it was nice to not have to be alone, but they really were mostly just strangers to him. Nice strangers.

“Dick,” Barbara said, her voice tight. He remembered her phone lockscreen and realized again how hard this must be for her.

He heard Wally mutter, “Where’s M’gann when you need her?” The older teen cleared his throat. “We’ve been through a lot together, and I want you to know that I will do everything I can to help you get through this. I know it’ll just sound like empty words to you, but I’d run literally to the ends of the earth if I could help in any way. Barefoot. In winter. With a grizzly bear riding piggyback.”

He almost smiled at that mental picture. “Uh, gee thanks. I guess.”

“Now.” Wally took a deep breath, as if bracing himself for bad news. “What is all this about? Why’s Batman got you all sweating and anxious? He’s just a guy playing dress-up in a bat suit who makes hobby of punching bullies in the teeth.” He gulped. “He better not find out that I said that.”

He didn’t like the sharp way that Barbara was watching him. She _knew_ something, didn’t she? “Why am I being kept in the dark? You both seem to know more about my life than I do!” He found himself staring at his notepad by his computer, where he’d spent hours doing “research” about himself. He put his fingers on the notepad and wiggled it back and forth, debating about whether he should voice his thoughts and fears. And hopes. “I need to know about Batman,” he said at last, “because I think I was Robin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really like Mario Kart, okay??


	20. Evidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even without his memory, Dick is still sharp enough to start putting together some of the pieces...

**Barbara**

_“I need to know about Batman because I think I was Robin.”_

Her mind whirred at full speed as she fingered the mask she’d taken from him, stuffed in her hoodie pocket. She’d taken to carrying it with her everywhere, a reminder that her best friend was a hero. A stupid brilliant idiot, but a hero all the same. She glanced over at Wally, and his face confirmed what she already knew. It was true.

Dick had been the Boy Wonder.

And it made perfect sense.

She got up and stood in front of Dick, who looked too nervous about how close she was. Something ached in her chest, but she forced herself to look him in the eyes as she placed the domino mask firmly in his hand. “I didn’t know about that side of your life. Which I have to admit, kind of puzzles me.”

He gulped and stared down at the physical evidence of his alternate identity.

She sighed shakily. “Why would my oldest friend keep something like that from me?”

“I-" he began, probably to apologize, the clueless dummy, but she held up her hand to stop him.

“No, I’m not done. I think I’m angry, but not at you. I want you to know this: Robin is one of the bravest heroes I’ve ever heard of.” She glanced at Wally, who had forgotten to breathe and was now gasping for air and puffing his cheeks like a goldfish. “I’m sure that if Wally ever finds his voice again, he’ll be happy to fill you in about all your adventures with Kid Flash and the others.”

Wally shook his head, then rubbed his hands violently down his own face. “Uh, no, you’re not… Uhhhhh!”

She couldn’t help a small smirk. “I think you broke him.”

Dick wasn’t responding to any of this. He just stared at the mask she’d handed him. “I used to be Robin.”

Wally swore under his breath. “Dammit B.” Louder, he said, “You _are_ Robin. A little memory loss isn't gonna change that, buddy.”

Barbara wasn't so certain.

“But about Batman,” Dick said hesitantly.

She couldn’t find an answer. She knew that Batman and Robin worked together as a fluid and cooperative team, that Robin’s levity balanced out Batman’s dark and brooding nature. But Batman had been around before Robin, and he’d done many things that Barbara disagreed with. So she kept her mouth shut and waited to see what Wally would say.

Wally’s mouth opened and closed a few times. At last he said, “Batman is unconventional, but he’s doing good work. He’s a good man, even though he scares the pants off me.”

She laughed, with a hint of bitterness. “That’s his whole shtick. He needs to be scarier than the darkness out there.”

“Yeah, well, it works,” Wally muttered.

She turned to face Dick again. “He has a strict code he follows, like a knight of King Arthur’s round table. He won’t kill if he can help it, even the worst criminals. He mostly only operates under cover of night. He’s known to cooperate with the police at times, but he’ll never reveal his identity to them. Even my father, the police commissioner for the city, doesn’t know his true name.”

“The main thing,” Wally said, “Is that he’s all about ‘Justice.’ He _is_ justice.”

“A slight exaggeration, maybe,” Barbara said dryly. “But the sentiment is true.”

“Then whenever he punches a bad guy, he can say, ‘Just ice that.’ Get it?”

Dick stared blankly at him.

“Come on, that was so bad it was good!” Wally punched him lightly in the arm. Dick winced slightly. “Oops, sorry.”

Barbara could tell that Dick had a lot to think about. “We should let you be for awhile. We’ve been blathering on for too long.”

Dick shrugged. “Sure.”

Wally gave him a concerned look. “Hey, everything’ll be just fine, you’ll see.”

“How can you be so sure? It’s not like my memory’s gonna just come back on its own…”

“You don’t know that for sure,” Barbara found herself saying. She didn’t sound convincing, even to herself.

“Yeah,” Wally said, and he suddenly got a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Besides, don’t tell anyone, but I’ve been cooking up a plan.”

“Great,” Barbara said, rolling her eyes. “I bet it’s pretty dumb.”

“Hey! I’ve been known to have a good idea or two! Maybe they aren’t as brilliant as his plans usually are,” he said, pointing a thumb towards Dick. “But I can think, can’t I?”

“Debatable,” Barbara said instantly.

Dick laughed at that. The sound of his sudden, honest mirth eased a tension in her chest that she hadn’t noticed before. She smiled as Wally scowled.

“Oh, so you’ll laugh at her jokes, but not mine? Fine. I can tell when I’m not wanted.”

Dick, still smiling, put out a fist for a fist bump. “Thanks guys. I appreciate all that you’ve both done for me.” His eyes met hers, and she saw the depth of his sincerity.

_You’re welcome,_ she thought.

* * *

**Dick**

That evening, he sat crosslegged on his bed, staring at the poster on the wall. He’d discovered his “tragic” history, but he still felt disconnected from it. Those photos and illustrations of the Flying Graysons soaring through the air, swinging from trapeze to trapeze… they weren’t anybody to him. Just acrobats who’d died because they were too stupid or arrogant to use a net.

He felt empty. The revelation that he was indeed Robin hadn’t affected him as much as he’d thought it might. Maybe because he’d already known. It was simply a confirmation.

The phantom song had faded, but he still heard echoes of it now and then. He wondered if that song had come from someone he’d known here, living with Bruce. It was a female voice that sang to him, though. Barbara? Selina? He hadn’t seen any other sign of a wife or even a girlfriend for Bruce.

He was tired of trying to remember. Perhaps it was time to accept the fact that his memory wasn’t coming back.

Sitting still made him antsy. He needed to move, to get his blood flowing, to think on his feet.

He jumped off the bed and opened the door to the hall. He could hear movement downstairs. Alfred? Or Bruce? It didn’t matter. He would stalk them to see what they were up to. Maybe if he could find out what they were like when he wasn’t around, he’d be able to find some clues as to what kind of people they really were.

He made his way to the stairs, and carefully managed to sneak down without causing a single step to creak. He heard voices in the library, so he made his way in that direction, keeping pressed against the wall behind a suit of armor in case someone came out of the room suddenly.

“Give him time, Master Bruce,” Alfred’s gentle and firm voice said.

“I know,” Bruce replied.

“He’ll heal up from that wound in no time, and then you’ll be yelling at him for dangling from the chandeliers again.”

Bruce snorted. Then he said something too quiet to hear.

“He’ll learn to manage,” Alfred answered in a more serious tone. “And so will you.”

Soft footsteps approached, and he pressed himself closer into the shadows of the suit of armor. Alfred left the room, carrying a duster and a cleaning rag in his gloved hands. Dick held his breath until the butler had disappeared around a corner.

He waited for a long time, listening for Bruce to come out of the room.

Just when he was about to give up and head back upstairs, he heard a quiet scraping sound, and then a clunking noise. Then the scraping noise resumed for a few seconds, and finally stopped.

Silence.

Dick, overcome by curiosity, poked his head around into the library. He tried to act nonchalant, but he ended up more chalant than anything when he realized that the room was empty.

There were no other doors out of the room. He checked the windows. Locked from the inside.

Bruce Wayne had disappeared.

***

The next morning, Dick refused to eat breakfast by himself in the massive dining room, to Alfred’s amusement. He found the kitchen to be much more homey anyway, with its big windows to the gardens, and the wooden stools near the granite-topped island.

And being near Alfred as he cooked and cleaned in the already-spotless kitchen just seemed right to him. The butler was steady in a way Dick needed. He was measured, controlled, but not cold. In fact, his mild conversation was warmer than anything Bruce had said to him so far.

Alfred talked about getting ready to send Dick back to school, and mentioned possibly getting a tutor to help him catch up what he’d missed over the last few weeks. He talked about how the flowers in the gardens were coming along nicely after he’d mulched them earlier in the year. He didn’t seem to mind when Dick didn’t answer him, which was nice. He just continued stirring the pot of tapioca pudding or scrubbing the sink with a brush and found some other ordinary topic to talk about.

Dick let his mind wander back to the puzzle of Bruce disappearing in the library last night. The only explanations that made any sense were:

1\. Bruce squeezed through a window to get some fresh air outside and the latch fell closed behind him, or

2\. There was a secret passageway somewhere in the room.

After munching on a piece of toast with honey and sipping the hot and sweet tea that Alfred set in front of him, Dick finally asked, “Does Bruce have a secret door in the library?”

Alfred stopped scrubbing for only a second, but the hesitation told Dick all he really needed to know. “If there were such a thing,” he said calmly, “I couldn’t very well tell you, could I? It would defeat the purpose of it being a _secret_ door.”

“Huh,” Dick said. “Thanks. For the tea. It was tea-lightful.”

“Anytime.”

Dang, he was so sure his awful pun would get a reaction out of the older man. Oh well, back to the drawing board. He hopped off his stool and left the kitchen, heading back to the library.

In the daylight, the room seemed bigger. The vaulted ceiling with the tall bookshelves made him feel small and lost, though he liked the warmth of the sunlight coming through the narrow windows. He walked up to one of the windows and unlatched it to see how far the ground was. He stuck his head and shoulders out and found that the drop to the ground was doable, though far. Alfred’s flowerbeds below looked soft enough to break the short fall. But he saw no footprints in the dirt, a strike against that possibility. Besides, the windows had all been latched, he was sure of it.

He turned and looked back around the room. Another of those massive fireplaces filled one wall. The other walls were mostly made up of heavy oak shelves. He pulled a few books off one of the shelves, stacking them neatly on the floor, so that he could inspect the backing. He tapped it, but it didn’t sound like anything but the back of a bookshelf. He put the books back exactly the way they were.

What else was in the room? A cozy wing-back chair by the fireplace, and a leather couch. An antique coffee table. A small mahogany writing desk pushed into the corner. An intricately carved grandfather clock.

Dick wandered near the coffee table. A magazine about high-end hybrid cars was placed, face down, on the glass. An empty mug.

The desk was too tidy. Just a fancy fountain pen in a brass stand, a monogrammed notepad, and a framed picture of a wealthy-looking couple. Dick tried the drawer, but it was locked. He didn’t feel like picking the lock at the moment, but if it came to it, he was willing to try.

The grandfather clock was not wound. The hands were stuck at 3:30.

Last night he’d heard a soft scraping noise from somewhere in the room. Something had moved, and if his suspicions were correct, it had revealed some kind of door or passageway. Or a trapdoor, perhaps? He bent and inspected the hardwood floors, pulling away an expensive Persian rug. Nothing jumped out at him right away, but he kept looking. There were a few scuff marks near the desk, though they were faint. Perhaps from a chair being pulled across the floor?

The clock, however, had some even more unusual scratches near it. He measured them with his hand and sure enough, they arced out in a way that would hint that that clock was hiding something, either behind or beneath it. He tried to see under the two-inch gap beneath the clock, but realized he’d need a flashlight for that. He sat back on his heels and thought. How would one access the secret passageway? Based on how shallow the scratches were, he guessed that the clock was not moved by brute force, but by some hidden engineering.

The question was, how did one trip the switch?

“Master Dick,” Alfred said, entering the room with a broom and dustpan. Dick quickly straightened, trying not to appear guilty. “If it is a book you are looking for, may I recommend _The Count of Monte Cristo_? I believe it may be enlightening for you.”

Warily, Dick nodded. “Thanks. I’ll check it out.” He searched the shelves for the classic, and found that all of Bruce’s books had been well organized. Alfred’s doing, he guessed.

He found the book and pulled it off the shelf, half expecting it to trip some mechanism and make the bookshelf swing forward on a hidden hinge. But it was just an ordinary book, and apparently just an ordinary shelf. He sighed and tucked the book under his arm. He could feel Alfred watching him, so he didn’t want to do anything that would make the butler suspicious. He took one more glance at the clock that didn’t work, and then sat in the comfy chair by the cold fireplace.

The phone on the small desk rang, and Alfred stopped cleaning to answer it. “Wayne residence. How may I assist?” He waited a moment and then said, “Very well, Master Bruce. I shall arrive with the car in half an hour.”

Dick sat up, book forgotten, as Alfred hung up the phone.

“I trust that you should be comfortable while I am gone?” Alfred said amiably.

Surprised that he was going to be allowed to stay here alone, he nodded.

“Very well, Master Richard. I shall return soon. Enjoy your reading.” With that, Alfred left the room.

Dick waited until he was certain that Alfred was gone from the huge house, and then tossed aside the book and hurried back over to the wall with the clock. Something about the fact that the clock wasn’t wound made him suspicious. It was not from lack of care that the clock was still. It was freshly dusted, so Alfred obviously cleaned it regularly. Dick carefully unlatched the glass door and opened it to inspect the mechanisms. As far as he could tell, it was all in working condition. No pieces were jammed, nothing was rusted. It was all clean, oiled, and ready. He picked up the winding key.

Something was _odd_ about this clock.

Perhaps there was a way to find out, but he would need time to make plans to discover it. Time that he now had.


	21. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick continues to try putting the pieces together, even if Bruce tries to prevent it.

**Bruce**

When Bruce arrived back at the Manor with a headache from sitting through far too many press conferences and meetings about how to deal with the damage from the attack on Wayne Tower, all he wanted to do was to spend time with Dick. He just didn’t know how.

Ever since Dick had returned, he’d been unsure how to talk to the boy. He’d never felt so tongue-tied.

On top of that, Dick was missing.

Alfred turned pale when they found that he wasn’t in the library, and he wasn’t in his room.

“Dick?” Bruce called, fighting to keep the concern out of his voice, trying to sound casual. “Where are you, chum?”

No answer. The stillness in the halls of the manor felt suddenly ominous.

“Should I ring the police?” Alfred asked.

“Not yet.” He really didn’t want to have to explain Dick’s injuries to them if he could help it.“I’ll take a look around the grounds.”

“I shall check downstairs,” Alfred said. “He was already sniffing about the entrance in the library. I didn’t think he’d found it yet.”

Bruce frowned. Dick was smart, but he doubted that he’d know how to access the Batcave without his memory. Could he be remembering? Or was it a coincidence? “Check. I’ll be outside.”

He checked the basketball court, the gardens, the woods on the edge of the property… no sign of Dick.

Finally, standing next to the freshly mulched flower beds, he had the sense to look up at Dick’s bedroom window. He saw an extension cord running vertically up the side of the house, and he suddenly knew where Dick was.

Of course he’d be on the roof.

It was an easy matter to climb the elm tree next to Dick’s window and slide over the gutter to the shingled roof. He followed the black cord along until he found Dick tucked between gables, looking at his laptop, wearing headphones and a serious expression.

Bruce leaned against the gabled roof and cleared his throat.

Dick jumped and yanked his headphones out of his ears. Bruce could have sworn he saw a look of guilt pass over his features, but it quickly disappeared.

He also didn’t miss the way Dick hid his laptop screen.

“B-Bruce!” Dick stammered. “What are you… how—“

“I used to come up here as a child,” Bruce explained. “I should have figured you’d find it. You gave Alfred quite a fright when we realized you weren’t in your room.”

Dick’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. It was too quiet in the house. I needed to see the sky.” He looked up at the clouds that scudded along lazily, and a bit of peace crept into his expression.

Bruce almost smiled.

Then Dick looked sharply at him and all that peace was gone, replaced by an intense look he didn’t understand. “Where does the passage behind the clock go?”

Bruce felt as though someone had punched him in the gut. He wasn’t prepared to answer this. He didn’t have a story, he wasn’t ready… “Which clock?” he said simply, forcing a laugh.

He didn’t return his fake smile. “The grandfather clock in the study. Where does it go?”

“You found a passageway?”

Dick glanced at his laptop. “Yup.” He popped the “p” sound as he said it. “Alfred just accessed it by moving the clock hands to precisely 10:47.”

His fake laugh died on his lips. How did he know? He’d been on the roof! But the way he looked at his computer, Bruce suspected that they’d been outsmarted. “Damn,” he said under his breath. “I have no idea.”

Dick gave him a skeptical look. “Seriously? You’re seriously going to lie about this?” He turned the laptop screen up so that Bruce could see a video feed from somewhere in the library. It had a perfect angle on the grandfather clock. He’d probably set up his phone to relay the video to his laptop. Dick backed up the footage and hit play just as Alfred entered. It clearly showed him setting the clock and the hidden door opening. Alfred then went inside and closed it behind him.

He stopped the playback and crossed his arms. “It’s pretty obvious you’d know about a passage in your own fricking house. You’re not stupid. In fact, I’m sure your IQ is higher than you let on.”

Bruce stared at Dick, who stared right back, refusing to be cowed.

“No use hiding the truth,” Dick said at last. “I’ll figure it out eventually anyway.”

“That’s probably true,” Bruce admitted grudgingly.

“So? What are you going to do about it? Make up a ridiculous story?” Dick frowned with a knowing gleam in his bright blue eyes. “I can guarantee that won’t go well for either of us.”

Bruce’s headache throbbed. Somehow he hadn’t thought that Dick would figure things out so quickly. He should have known. “You’re not ready,” he protested weakly. But the truth was that Dick seemed more than ready. It was himself that was not ready.

“Try me.”

Bruce held out a hand. “Let’s go down and talk with Alfred, shall we?”

Dick hesitated only a moment before accepting the hand and allowing Bruce to pull him up. He tucked the laptop under his arm. “Okay. But I’ll accept nothing but the full truth.”

Bruce dreaded every step all the way down to the kitchen, knowing that the full truth was something he could never give to Dick. Not now. Not ever.

The truth would only crush them both.

* * *

**Dick**

He sat at the kitchen table with Alfred while Bruce leaned against the island and, well, brooded. The guy was way too serious for his own good. Dick felt an unexplainable urge to joke, to lighten the mood, to make Bruce smile for real. Not any more of those ridiculous fake smiles.

“So,” Alfred said. “You have discovered the passage behind the clock.”

Dick glanced at Bruce. He’d said nothing further as they climbed down from the roof. “I think I’ve figured it out,” Dick said. “But I want to hear the truth. From you.”

Bruce glanced at Alfred, who shrugged dismissively. “You’re on your own with this one, Master Bruce.”

He watched as Bruce put his fingertips together and tapped out a rhythm. Dick instantly recognized it as S.O.S in Morse Code. Ha.

“What have you figured out?” Bruce asked at last.

He groaned. So they were going to do this the hard way. He opened his laptop again and pulled up a photo that he’d found, dated less than a year ago. He turned the computer to face Bruce and Alfred. “This was taken last July, outside the Hall of Justice. It shows several members of the Justice League bringing their young protégés in for the first time.”

He could have sworn Alfred smiled a little.

“What does this have to do with the passage?” Bruce prompted.

“Yeah, yeah, get to the point,” Dick muttered. He took a deep breath. “What happened the night I lost my memory?”

Bruce looked stunned by the question. “I—I don’t-“

“You were there, weren’t you?”

“No-”

“Yeah, pretty sure you were. But I wasn’t Dick Grayson at the time, was I?”

“What are you talking about, Dick?” Bruce seemed to find his voice again. “We told you what happened. You were kidnapped by the Joker on one of my business trips, and-“

“I know I’m supposed to be Robin,” he blurted out. “It’s no use trying to hide it.” He pulled the domino mask out of his pocket with a sweaty hand and set the evidence on the table. Then he gestured at the picture on his laptop. “This is me. I was wearing that same uniform when I woke up in the jungle. And,”—he tried to calm his racing heart—“it only follows then, that you are B-Batman.”

A long silence followed. Dick itched to run, or crack a joke, or _anything_ that would distract him from the fact that he was in the same house as Batman, the dark shadow that haunted his nightmares. The pain in his head, the despairing howl, the emptiness, the insane laughter that echoed through the dark forest… No. That last part was the Joker. Wasn’t it? It had to be. Great. He couldn’t breathe. He gripped his head with shaking hands and forced his eyes shut.

“…Master Richard?” Alfred’s concerned voice cut through his panic.

Dick forced his breathing into a calmer pace, and when he felt more in control of his emotions, he opened his eyes.

Alfred had risen out of his chair, and looked ready to rush forward. Bruce was staring at him with an unreadable expression, though the way that he clenched the countertop behind him suggested he was concerned as well.

“It’s—it’s all right,” Dick gasped. “I just need to know what happened that night, so I can make sense of these flashbacks.”

“Flashbacks,” Bruce repeated flatly.

“It’s not important.”

“Do they happen often? What do you see?”

“Stop! Just answer me.”

Bruce sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “What do you want me to say?”

“Tell me the truth. Are you Batman?”

Bruce pushed away from the kitchen island and began to pace. “Look, Dick, even if you were Robin at one point,” —Dick scoffed at the evasion— “It doesn’t really matter now. You’re in no shape to go flipping about on rooftops.”

Dick stood so fast that his chair tipped and clattered on the floor. His face grew hot with frustration, and he clenched his fists at his sides. “No, you listen! I’ve been trying to remember what happened, and I can’t… I can’t remember anything! All I know is what I’ve been able to piece together on my own through research and deduction. You’ve been avoiding me, and I want to know why you won’t help. Just tell me the truth!”

“I’ve told you all that I know-”

“Dammit, Bruce!”

At that, both Alfred and Bruce looked at him sharply, but he refused to back down.

“I want to help you track down Joker. That’s what you’re doing, right? I can help! And maybe if I do things that I used to, my memories will start to come back.”

“They haven’t for any of the other victims,” Bruce said in a low voice. “We’ve been monitoring them all as they go through various attempts at therapy and medication. Nothing works.”

“I have to have hope that something will come back. Just let me help.”

Bruce turned away. “I’m sorry, Dick. I wish I could, but I can’t let you near the Joker. He’s too dangerous for you right now.”

“And not for you? As far as I can tell, that device would wipe your brain just as easily as it did mine!”

Bruce didn’t answer.

Dick huffed. “Fine. Have it your way_._” He grabbed the domino mask from the table and jammed it back in his pocket.

As he walked away, Bruce called after him, “Where are you going?”

“Why don’t you figure it out, _Batman._” He ran up the stairs and slammed the door to his room.

***

That night, Dick rummaged through his closet until he found some dark clothes that wouldn’t hinder his movement or aggravate his still-healing wound. He set an alarm that would wake him in the early hours of the morning, when he was sure that Bruce would be sleeping and not running about the city in a bat costume. It was his best chance at getting out without anyone intervening.

Before bed, he did some investigating online. He compared what he could remember with street-views of Gotham until he was reasonably sure he’d found the warehouse where the Joker had kept him. That was the place to start.

He memorized the route, then removed any trace of his research from the laptop. The last thing he needed was Bruce snooping through his search history to find him.

The matter of what to use for a weapon bothered him at first, but after scouting his bedroom for half an hour, he found a false bottom in one of his dresser drawers that hid an emergency stash of money and a utility belt that contained smoke pellets, a grapple gun, some exploding throwing stars, and a pair of collapsible escrisma sticks.

“Thank you, past me,” he murmured. “What else did you tuck in here?” He stuck his arm all the way into the drawer. His fingers stilled when they brushed against some fabric. He pulled out a clean, intact Robin uniform, and a spare gauntlet computer.

He stared at them for a long moment. He took the gauntlet computer and set it with his gear for the night. That could come in handy. Then he carefully tucked the suit back into the hidden compartment and covered it up. He let out a breath. That wasn’t for him. Not yet. Perhaps not ever, if Bruce continued to refuse to let him help.

He curled up in his blankets and turned his back to the hidden drawer. He stared at the wall with the Flying Graysons poster until he finally fell asleep.

***

At precisely 4 AM, fully clad in his black clothing and mask, and with the spare utility belt across his chest, Dick crawled out his window onto the tree that Barbara had used to sneak into his room. He easily managed to clamber down onto the manicured lawn without a hitch. He hoped Bruce had gone to bed, and would stay there for at least a few hours, so he could execute his plan.

“This is so stupid,” he muttered. He ducked behind hedges as he ran, making his way toward the main gate out to the road. Here’s where his plan could immediately fail: if Bruce had noticed his hiding place for his stolen motorcycle, then he was sunk. But if he believed the story that he’d stowed away in Selina’s car, then perhaps his transportation was still secure.

He pulled back the pruned branches of the hedge by the gate, and breathed a sigh of relief. His stolen bike was still there, covered with leaves. He pulled it out and started the engine. He glanced back through the trees toward the manor. “Good luck, Bruce,” he said, and took off into the night.

There was nothing more waiting could do for him, especially given Bruce’s unwillingness to talk. This was the only option he had left—and he was taking it. But for reasons he didn’t understand, deep down inside, he could hear himself screaming.


	22. Instincts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin goes looking for clues and finds more than he bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is late! It's been a crazy week.
> 
> Also, fair warning, this chapter has a bit of violence - nothing crazier than previous chapters, but y'know, heads up.

**Dick**

The dark warehouse loomed in front of him in the night, seemingly abandoned. But he wasn’t about to take any chances. He’d stashed his bike in an alley around the corner, afraid to come too close with the loud motor announcing his arrival. Instead he approached on foot, staying close to the shadows in case anyone was watching the street.

“Time for some reconnaissance,” he whispered. “Or maybe just connaissance.”

He slipped inside, and began a quick check of the perimeter. Satisfied that he was alone, he made his way to the office he remembered from before, the one with the solitary desk. Obviously the Joker had ditched this hideout since he’d been held here, but maybe he’d be able to find some sort of clue as to what the villain’s next move would be.

To his chagrin, there was no computer in the office, nothing he could hack into and find emails or freaking calendar events. But he hadn’t really expected it to be that easy.

The metal desk, however, had a filing drawer filled with papers. Most of it appeared to be junk mail and flyers, such as advertisements for hair products, cosmetics, and even toys. He tossed these on the top of the desk and dug deeper into the drawer. Aside from a few spare knives and more miscellaneous papers, there was nothing much of interest to be found.

Dick sat back on his heels and stared at the messy pile of paper. Why had the Joker kept these? He shuffled through the pages and sorted them by type:

Clown makeup and wig catalogs.

Prank devices and joke shops.

Hardware store ads.

Mens suits.

_No, no, no…_ He paused, holding a single sheet of paper with what looked like a series of dates printed on official Gotham City letterhead. The subject line indicated that this was a memo regarding upcoming city council meetings. Several dates had passed already, but a splash of green ink caught his eye. One of the upcoming meetings was circled and a few unstable-looking smiley faces graced the nearby margin. Joker’s next target? But what was he planning? Maybe one of the other pages would have a clue—

A whistle of air alerted him to an incoming projectile. He flipped backwards out of instinct, thankful that his honed senses didn’t depend on his memories. A javelin speared the place he’d been crouched, jabbing right through the paper to the floor.

Blocking the door stood the large blond man with the hockey mask he’d seen before. From his research he now knew the beefcake was named Sportsmaster.

“Hey!” he yelled at the guy. “Why’d you go and do that?”

The big man just took a step into the room and brandished a discus. “Remember what I said before: I’m your worst nightmare.”

Dick waved a hand dismissively. “Eh, find a new line. It only worked in the first _discussion._”

The big man silently reared his arm back to throw.

“Aw, come on, you gotta admit, that wordplay was gold medal worthy!”

The discus flew at his face, and he ducked into a forward roll to avoid it. The metal disc exploded through the windows behind him. Broken glass scratched across his back, but his clothes protected him from any serious cuts. Still, it was enough to sober him up. He was going up against one of the strongest villains out there, with very little protection or weapons at his disposal. He dug in his utility belt for his explosives and flung them at the man’s feet.

Sportsmaster was too quick. He danced sideways just before the explosion rocked the small room. But Dick saw his opportunity and took it, bolting through the smoke toward the door.

Without knowing why, he stopped short. Something whooshed in front of his chest and embedded in the doorframe. His eyes widened as he saw the heavy metal ball attached to a cable. Before he could follow the cable to its source, the ball jerked free and crashed into his side. He rag-dolled across the floor until a booted foot stopped him.

“Hello, little punk,” Sportsmaster said, leaning over him as he swung his hammer ball. “I thought you might show up here. I think I deserve some payback after you turned Joker against me like that.”

Dick clutched at his ribs and gasped for breath. “Haven’t you heard? Crime doesn’t pay.”

The hammer came down again without warning. Dick only just managed to roll to the side in time.

“Oh, you’re wrong there, kiddo. See, when I turn you over our mutual friend the Joker, he’ll be so delighted to have his ammunition over Batman back that he’ll cut me back into the deal.”

Dick pushed himself to his feet, staggering at the pain in his side. He panted a bit. “Batman? Psh, that guy doesn’t care about me. Not anymore, at least.”

Another swing, and this time he was too slow to dodge. A terrible pain exploded in his right knee, and down he went.

And again, this time the hammer smashed into his shoulder. The momentum of the swing sent him hurtling into the file cabinet, but not before there was a horrible, grinding pop in his arm socket. He screamed at that one. Papers from his detective work rained on top of him as he gritted his teeth and clutched at the dislocated limb. “Doesn’t… Joker… wan’me alive?” he managed to spit out.

Sportsmaster chuckled darkly. “Believe me, if I wanted you dead, you’d already be a goner. But nobody said I couldn’t rough you up first.” The hammer came down next to his head and shattered the desk chair. Slivers of wood sliced and stabbed his face from the impact.

Tiredly, Dick turned to face his attacker, helpless to run or fight back. He leaned against the filing cabinet. “Fine. Do y’r worst.”

Sportsmaster swung the hammer a few times and prepared to strike again.

Dick closed his eyes and slumped to the side, waiting for the blow.

It never came.

“I think he’s had enough.” The firm yet gravelly feminine voice surprised him into opening his eyes again. A girl in green with a blond ponytail stood defensively between him and his attacker. “I’ve already called for backup, so you’ll want to be leaving right about now.” She drew an arrow from the quiver on her back and nocked it on her bow.

Why did that seem familiar?

Sportsmaster sneered behind his mask, still swinging his hammer ball. “You’re in over your head, baby girl. Take it up with the Joker if you like, but that one’s claimed. Stand aside.”

Dick furrowed his brow. What was going on here? The two seemed to be having one conversation out loud and a completely different one silently between them. They obviously had some kind of history. He tried to sit up straighter, still clutching his throbbing arm. At his movement, the girl glanced over her shoulder and he caught a glimpse of her face.

“You!” he exclaimed. “You were at the library!”

She’d been a part of the little group of teens—including Wally as Kid Flash—that had tried to help him.

She looked concerned. “Save your strength, Robin. I’ve got this.” She turned back to face Sportsmaster. “Get lost before I do something you’ll regret.”

Dick froze, dumbstruck. _Robin._ So it was true. He’d known it, and yet…

“You’ve been warned, baby girl.” The burly man stalked to the broken window. With a swipe of his weapon, he cleared a bigger opening in the glass. Then he dropped out into the night and vanished.

The girl visibly slumped in relief. “Okay, let’s get you out of here.”

“You lied about th’ backup?”

She blinked at his question. “It’s not like I had time to call anyone before I saw, uh, what Sportsmaster was up to. Are you okay? You look like crap.”

“Thanks. You’re…” He wracked his brain to remember what the other teens had called her. “Artemis?”

She flinched, but recovered quickly. “You got it. Come on.” She went to his good side and propped his arm over her shoulders. On the count of three, she managed to get him into a somewhat standing position. “What kind of idiot move was this, anyway? Does Batman know you’re here?”

Through the haze of intense pain, Dick tried to focus on her words. “Are… you reprimanding me?” Under his breath, he added, “Or primanding me?”

At that, she gave him a strange sideways look. “Yeah, because that was a stupid thing to do. You could have died!” As she spoke, she tried to drag him over to the window.

Every movement was torture to his bruised body. He began to sweat from the effort to stay alert and upright. “Artemis, I can’t—”

“You may have lost your memory, but did you lose your common sense as well? I should tell Batman. Who am I kidding? He probably has every Justice League satellite out there looking for you right now!”

“Hey—”

Lost in her indignant anger, and still raging about common sense and how much Batman was going to kill them both, she yanked him roughly after her.

He hissed at the sharp pain caused by the sudden action. His wounded knee couldn’t hold him up anymore, and his arm was killing him. Worst of all, his vision was starting to black out. Had he hit his head? He couldn’t remember.

Artemis finally seemed to notice. “Robin? Hey, can you hear me? You don’t look so good.” She sounded scared.

“M’fine,” he grunted and promptly fell face-forward, his ears ringing with Artemis’ swearing.


	23. Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wally's favorite dream is interrupted by an emergency call and Bruce gets a stern talking-to.

**Wally**

The fancy midnight buffet of his dreams gave way to the sound of his phone buzzing. Reality pulled him reluctantly awake. He smacked at the screen a few times before his reflexes caught up with his brain and he held it up to see who it was. Artemis was calling on the team’s protected channel. He squinted at his clock. “What could be so important to interrupt a midnight buffet at 5am?” he mumbled and then answered, “Hey Arty, what’s shakin’?”

He thought he heard a panicked half-sob on the other end.

Immediately he was wide awake and dead serious. “Artemis? Talk to me.”

“It’s Robin. He’s hurt, and I don’t know if I should call Batman or take him to a hospital, or—“

He took a deep breath, hoping that she could draw strength from him over the phone. “Where are you?”

She gave her location as being in a warehouse in Gotham City. He didn’t question what she was doing there.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he said as he began to dress in his suit, the phone tucked against his shoulder. “Keep talking. Is he breathing?”

“Yes, but he’s pretty banged up.”

“Visible injuries?”

She paused, presumably checking her companion. “He’s kind of dazed, I think his arm is dislocated, he’s got some awful bruises forming on his face and he collapsed after putting weight on his right knee. It was Sportsmaster.”

Wally cursed under his breath. “Okay, I’ll be there in a few minutes. Just hang tight, and if he stops breathing or anything weird like that, call an ambulance.”

“Oh, hang on, I think he’s trying to get back up!”

Even over the phone, Wally could hear his friend’s groan of pain. “So he’s at least somewhat aware of his surroundings? Good. See you soon.” He hung up and pulled on his goggles. Time to race to the nearest Zeta tube.

***

Once he arrived at the Gotham City Zeta phone booth, it was only a short zip to the warehouse Artemis had told him about. He burst into the office to find her helping Robin (dressed in black clothes and a mask) sit up against the wall with his dislocated arm cradled next to him. They seemed to be in the midst of an argument.

“…not something I know how to do!” Artemis was saying in an exasperated tone. “I’m not a doctor! I don’t have all the medical training you had! Please, we have to call him.”

“No! I can fix this. I just need your help to set my arm-”

Wally cleared his throat. “What’s going on?”

“Robin won’t let me call Batman,” Artemis said flatly. “But he’s being an idiot right now, so I’m inclined to ignore him.”

“I said no. If he is my partner, I should get to decide!”

Wally knelt next to them, ignoring the broken glass that jabbed into his knee. “Look, Rob…” He eyed the cuts and bruises on his friend’s face. His cheek was beginning to swell from the obvious beating he’d taken. “World’s Greatest Detective, remember? You’re not going to be able to hide this from him anyway.”

Dick just shuddered and lowered his eyes.

Wally nodded to Artemis, who got up and stepped away to call Batman.

“Hey Rob,” Wally began, but when Dick didn’t look up, he felt concern coil in his stomach. “What are you even doing here? By yourself?” He glanced at the scattered papers and broken chair, and the various evidence of his fight with Sportsmaster. “Come on, talk to me, buddy.”

Nothing. Robin’s emotions were hidden behind the lenses of his mask, and he didn’t lift his head at all.

Wally began to freak out a little. “Dick?” he whispered. “You do know that I care about you, right? We all do. Even Batman. You gotta be more careful or you’ll just get more hurt. Whatever you were doing here, it wasn’t worth all this.”

No reaction that his words had been heard. Just that blank, empty stare.

Before he thought about what he was doing, a terrified anger leapt up in Wally and he slapped Robin’s less injured cheek. “Snap out of it!”

“Wally!” Artemis was there, grabbing his arm to prevent another swing at Robin. “What are you _doing?_”

The three of them sat like that for a long moment, Wally breathing heavily from panic, Artemis staring at him in shock, and Robin…

Dick was glaring at him now. Even behind his mask, the fury was evident in his narrowed eyes and lowered brow. It was a sight he’d never seen on his friend’s face before, and it made him almost unrecognizable.

“Batman will be here in a few minutes,” Artemis said, breaking the spell at last. “He’ll take Robin home.”

Robin looked away, but his deep frown remained.

Wally shivered. “Yeah. Yeah. Good.” He stood up, breaking Artemis’ hold on his arm, and backed away. “Thanks Artie.” He turned and zipped outside, hoping to clear his head with a few laps around the warehouse until Batman showed up. But he couldn’t shake the images of Dick’s blank hopelessness and subsequent intense anger. Neither of those expressions fit his friend’s face at all.

Up until now, Wally had been holding out some kind of dreamy hope that even though Dick’s memory had been wiped, it would all work out with a few conversations. After all, hadn’t he been playing video games with him and Barbara only days ago? Things had been _almost_ normal then. They’d joked and laughed… and Wally had been given a glimpse of the old Dick Grayson, his best friend.

Now he understood that it had been an illusion. Tonight had shocked him, but at least now he knew the truth.

His best friend was gone. He’d seen the face of a stranger behind Robin’s mask, and it frightened him more than he could say.

* * *

**Bruce**

He pulled on his gauntlets as Alfred watched from the stairs. The butler’s stiff disapproval radiated across the entire cave. He tried to ignore the chill and focus instead on what Artemis had told him: Robin was injured, he’d gone looking for Joker but was found by a vengeful Sportsmaster. Artemis had chased off Sportsmaster and called Kid Flash for backup. The two of them were with Robin now.

_Not Robin, _he thought bitterly. He’d discovered from security camera footage that Dick had somehow stolen a motorcycle and gone into the city hours ago. What had he been thinking, going out like that? It was suicide.

“You need to tell him.”

Bruce sighed and shook his head. “He already knows.”

“I don’t care what he thinks he’s deduced. You need to talk to him all the same. Tell him everything.”

“No. He’ll insist on patrols, and you know as well as I do that he can’t do that right now. Not without his memories.” Bruce reached for his utility belt and fastened it securely around his waist. “It’s too dangerous.”

Alfred cleared his throat warningly, and Bruce reluctantly met his stern gaze. His mustache twitched with struggling emotions. “Dangerous, you say?” His voice was soft, but Bruce shivered nonetheless. “Dangerous? You don’t call running out in the middle of the night alone with a stolen motorbike to look for that despicable excuse for a clown dangerous enough? Isn’t getting beaten by a villain with heavy-duty sporting equipment dangerous? I daresay you need to check your priorities, sir.”

Bruce froze with his hands on his cowl, stunned. “Alfred, I don’t have time—“ he started

The butler raised a gloved hand to cut him off. “No, Master Bruce, do allow me to finish.”

He obediently fell silent.

“Master Richard is no broken commodity to cast aside while you continue your little war without him. I know you find it difficult to understand, but this is a _relationship._ He’s your family, and you are his. I will not allow your mutually ridiculous stubbornness to continue under this roof. You will go to him, bring him back here, patch him up, and _be his father again._ I don’t care if he doesn’t remember you. You bloody well ought to remember him.”

Bruce felt every word as a punch to the gut. He stood frozen for a moment longer, then pulled on the cowl. “I’ll be back soon,” he said, and stepped into the Batmobile, ending the painful conversation.

***

As soon as he pulled up to the warehouse, he noticed the yellow and red blur of Kid Flash zipping around the area. Not a good sign if he was out here instead of in there, with Rob—Dick.

Batman approached the building and stopped. A moment later, Wally caught up to him and stopped, panting slightly.

“You’re late,” Wally said at last. “Uh, Sir.”

“What happened?” Batman asked sternly. “What are you doing out here?”

Wally rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s upset with me, so I came out here to give him space while Artemis watches him. So he won’t do anything stupid again,” he finished bitterly.

Batman nodded, and pushed past him without another word.

Apparently having summoned his courage, Wally shouted after him, “You’re supposed to take care of him, B! Whatever you’ve been doing so far, it isn’t that! Do better!” With that, Wally zipped off again before he could respond.

He entered the warehouse, the cheeky young hero’s words ringing true in his ears.

He found the room where Artemis was murmuring as she wrapped Dick’s knee in a makeshift compress. He took in his ward’s condition silently. Injured knee, dislocated arm, bruised or broken ribs. Multiple scrapes and bruises from various blows and broken glass. As he cast a glance about the rest of the room, he saw signs of a short but intense struggle that involved exploding weapons.

“Let’s go,” he grunted to Dick.

“Now wait a minute,” Artemis said. “You can’t just—“

“Leave us now,” he said. “You did good work tonight.”

She flushed at the unexpected praise mixed with abrupt dismissal. After a quick glance between him and the boy she knew as Robin, she reluctantly gathered her bow and headed for the window. She dropped out silently.

“So,” Dick said solemnly, wearing the very mask he’d flaunted earlier.

“So,” he agreed.

“You gonna lie to my face again?”

Something clenched in Bruce’s stomach. Was that really how Dick saw him? Didn’t he even suspect that any of this secret-keeping might have been intended to protect him?

“No,” he said at last. “I have some things to say. But on the way home.” He didn’t ask if Dick needed help. He just offered his hand to pull him to his feet.

The kid didn’t take it. He simply pushed himself up to a limping position using his one good arm and one good leg.

In the car, Dick peeled the mask off his face. Bruce set the controls on autopilot to take them to the cave. Then he turned toward Dick and pushed back the cowl so that they could see eye-to-eye. Showing his face as Bruce Wayne.

Dick gasped, even though he’d already claimed to know this.

“Yes, I’m both Batman and Bruce Wayne. You knew me as both, before.”

Dick finally managed to find his voice, shaken as it was. “And… I was Robin, wasn’t I?”

“You were, once. But tonight? Tonight I am disappointed in what you’ve become.”

Dick reeled back as if he’d been slapped. His pale face quickly shifted to an angry flush. “Like I had any choice in the matter!”

“You can choose how to deal with your situation! Acting like a common criminal, stealing a motorcycle? It’s one matter to run off without a plan or support, but the theft… We’re not supposed to be like the very ones we fight! You can’t just take what you want. We have to be better than that. Robin would never do what you did tonight.”

The kid slumped under his seatbelt and didn’t respond for a long time. It wasn’t until they’d reached the main city bridge that he spoke up, his voice cold and resentful. “How am I supposed to know how to act? I’m _not_ Robin anymore, at least we agree on that point. I know stuff that should affect how I view the world, but I don’t have the reality of experiencing it myself. It doesn’t hold any guidance for me.”

Bruce didn’t have anything to say to that.

“Why did you even come?”

The question caught him off-guard, to say the least. “Why do you think?”

Dick squirmed a bit, then settled on staring out the window on his side, watching the streets whip past them. “I’m an embarrassment to you now. You’ve already made it clear I’m a disappointment. Admit it, I’m a mistake, and it would be better for you if I just went away.”

_Mistake…_ The word made him flinch. Dick had no idea how right he was about that, but it certainly wasn’t true in the way he thought. No wonder Alfred kept pushing him to open up to Dick. The kid had managed to develop some kind of twisted guilt about all of this. “No,” he said. “I came because I can tell you’re lost and you need help. I came because I can’t watch you drive yourself to death over this! I…” Why was this so _hard?_ Curse Alfred and his _suggestions!_ “Yes, I am disappointed in you, but you’d never _be_ a disappointment. It’s at the least commendable that you want to find the truth so badly. This just isn’t the way to do it. Trust me.”

The Batmobile pulled into the cave entrance. In only moments, they’d be home, and Alfred would be hovering about casting suspicious glances at Bruce. But he’d run out of words, and all he could do was rest his hand gently on Dick’s shoulder, avoiding his dislocated joint.

When at last Dick spoke again, his words were so meek and anguished that Bruce almost didn’t recognize his voice. “I just don’t know what kind of person I am anymore. How can I trust you when I can’t even trust myself?”

And to that, Bruce had no answer.

The car came to a stop in the cave. Immediately Dick pulled free and hopped out, balancing on his good leg. He glanced around, wide-eyed for a moment, then slumped. “I knew it,” he muttered.

“Master Richard, Master Bruce,” Alfred called, descending the stairs to the garage area of the cave. “Do you need medical attention?”

Bruce listed off all of the injuries in a flat tone, thankful that Alfred seemed willing to take over from here. When he was done with the rapid report, Alfred nodded and gently ushered Dick toward the medbay, murmuring soft assurances to the boy. Dick didn’t so much as look back at him.


	24. Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick takes a little trip to the cave and beyond. After all, a Robin's got to start spreading his wings eventually.

**Dick**

Dick threw a tennis ball at the ceiling from where he lay on the carpet. He watched it fly up and then caught it easily. Again he threw it, and caught it. The rhythm helped him focus and calm his emotions, which was something he’d needed a lot of practice with lately. Not to mention it helped to improve the stiffness in his shoulder that had cropped up after Alfred had returned it to its proper socket. He tried not to remember that pain. He was still on some painkillers for that, actually. He growled at the ball and threw it again.

He’d almost completely avoided any contact with Bruce for a week now, which was something he was sadistically proud of. If the man insisted on being the way he was, Dick really didn’t see any need to continue their tense relationship. He just hunkered down and tried to heal as quickly as possible so that he could get on with his own investigations.

Throw the ball. Catch it. Throw it again. Catch it.

Alfred was all right. He liked the kind butler, even though he had mother hen tendencies that could border on overbearing. The man was constantly checking on him, offering him painkillers, snacks, juice… At one point he had to ask to be left alone because he couldn’t focus on his research with the constant quiet knocks at his bedroom door. He supposed it was probably also something Bruce had asked him to do—to keep an eye on him so he couldn’t run off again. Fair enough.

Throw it. Catch it.

But too bad for Bruce, he had already made plans to sneak back down to the cave at the first opportunity he found.

He reviewed the facts: He’d been Robin. Bruce was Batman. There was a team of other teens out there who had already helped him before. Wally, who was on that team, was Kid Flash. It was an impressive list, and a lot more than he’d known when staying with Selina, but it left him more confused about his role in all of it.

And he desperately wanted to know more.

He switched hands and threw the ball again, higher this time, so that it grazed the ceiling ever so slightly. He caught it a moment later.

Someone knocked on the door just as he threw the ball again. It sailed off kilter and fell out of reach. He sat up. “Come in.”

Alfred entered, holding a tray with a few molasses cookies, warm from the oven. “I thought you might like some of these.”

“Don’t need to ask me twice,” he murmured, reaching for one. These were better than playing with that ball, anyway. “Alf,” he said, mouth full. “Why do you put up with Bruce? He’s such an a—jerk.”

Alfred set the tray on the desk. “I suppose that is a valid question, from your point of view. It may appear on a surface level that Bruce is a difficult person to live with and care for. And perhaps he is. But you must understand, there is a deep level of trust between us borne of many decades’ struggle and healing. After his parents were killed, I became his guardian, servant, and friend all at once. In essence, I was his only family until you came along.”

Dick frowned. “It doesn’t feel like I’m part of his family,” he said, avoiding Alfred’s eyes. “Right now it’s like he doesn’t even want to know me.”

Alfred rested a hand on his shoulder. “I will not excuse his behavior of late. However, I believe there are two sides to every coin. It hasn’t escaped my notice that you are reluctant to make yourself available to him, as well.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled around another cookie. “I just don’t see the point in trying anymore, if he’s not going to help me try to get my memories back.”

“Is that what you think?” There was genuine anger in Alfred’s tone. It startled him so much that he dropped the second half of his cookie. He looked up and saw pain and frustration in the older man’s normally passive face.

“Uh, yeah?”

Alfred sighed and pulled at his shirt cuffs. “Master Bruce has consulted everyone from Martian Manhunter to Zatara. He’s gone over every case file from other incidents with memory erasure and amnesia in the Justice League’s secure library. He spends his patrols out on the town, searching for leads on the Joker, trying to figure out what he will do next before it happens. He hardly sleeps, he forgets meals, and his work at the office is suffering. Master Dick… he’s obsessed with finding a way to restore your memory. He’s out there this very moment, hunting for clues. It consumes his every waking moment.”

Dick wrapped his arms around himself, processing this information. He knew Bruce had been busy lately, but now that it was confirmed that he was Batman, all the pieces that Alfred was telling him were starting to fall into place to paint a different picture of his irritable, distant guardian. “But why won’t he let me help? I can’t keep sitting around uselessly like this. It’s going to drive me insane!” A stubbornly childish part of him whispered in his mind, _I’d rather be “outsane.”_

Alfred patted his shoulder. “I wish I had an answer for you, but all I can say is give him time. I shall keep working on him from my end. If you give him a chance, he’ll come around eventually.”

Dick nodded, trying to look resigned and patient. He faked a big yawn. “Sheesh, did you put sleeping pills in those cookies?”

The butler gave him a dry look. “Ah yes, right alongside the _sweet dreams_ flour and a dash of _don’t forget to brush your teeth_ salt.” He picked up the empty tray and went out into the hall. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything. Good night, Master Dick.”

He waited until the footsteps had retreated out of hearing. Once he was sure Alfred was safely back in the kitchen, he slipped out into the hall and headed straight for Bruce’s study, and the cave entrance hidden within.

Entering was a cinch, now that he knew the secret about the clock hands. He flipped them to the correct time and stepped back to watch the secret door open, revealing the firepole. He grinned, and wrapped his leg around it. “Here goes nothing,” he muttered, and let himself slide down into the darkness.

After an exhilarating moment of blindness, the tunnel around him opened up, revealing the wide expanse of the Batcave. A few utility lights illuminated the various levels, but the massive spotlights that he’d noticed after Batman drove him here were now off. It was eerily quiet, and he thought he could hear the squeaking of bats somewhere in the distance.

He landed on the platform below and held his breath, waiting to see if he’d triggered any alarm systems. After a moment of stillness, he decided that if there were any such alarms, they were silent ones. He hopped down the metal stairs toward the giant Batcomputer.

He’d been too distracted by pain and frustration with Bruce the last time he’d been down here, so he hadn’t had a chance to get a good look at everything. The medbay was the only thing he remembered in any detail.

Opposite the Batcomputer was a wide open area, which he supposed could be used for sparring practice, as there were some mats pushed up to one of the railings in a tidy stack. Beyond that, he saw some display cases. He walked over to them and grinned. Apparently Bruce was a bit vain, as he’d set up spare suits in a row of dramatic glass tubes. Some of them seemed to have special purposes—for cold weather, for outer space… He stopped. The next suit was not Batman’s.

A red, black, and yellow suit, with the distinctive “R” symbol on the chest. So there was a spare down here. He wondered if it still fit. He leaned against the plaque in front, and jumped when it scanned his handprint.

“Recognized: Robin, B-01,” the computerized voice stated, and the glass around the suit retracted.

Dick reached out to touch the cape, an idea forming in his head that he _knew_ Alfred would not approve of. And Bruce would probably have an aneurysm if he found out about it.

He didn’t care. He quickly pulled the suit down and pulled it on. It felt good, if a bit loose. He’d lost some weight and muscle tone ever since, well, Joker. It would have to do. He pressed the mask on over his eyes and sighed. Time to get some answers, one way or another.

He walked over to the transport tube at the back of the cave. He’d asked Alfred about it when he was getting patched up, but he couldn’t remember what it was called. Some Greek letter or something. He stood in front of the tube and grimaced. How did this thing work exactly?

“To the place where the Young Justice team is,” he announced, trying to sound confident. He stepped inside, and suddenly found himself hurtled through the tube to a new room, where his foot landed. He didn’t know the place, of course. He cautiously moved into the room, hoping to keep his presence quiet—

“Recognized: Robin, B-01.”

“Gah!” Someone yelped off the main corridor of the room he was in. A moment later, he heard hushed voices.

“Hello?” he called, wondering how bad an idea this was.

Suddenly, Wally was _right there,_ shaking his hand and chattering excitedly at him. “Dude! You’re here? OhgoshIcan’tbelieveit! Wait till the others see—“

A green-skinned girl floated out after Wally. She held her hands up as though she were going to tackle him in an hug or blast him with some kind of powers. He couldn’t be sure which she wanted to do. A tall boy followed her.

“Hi Wally,” he said, not taking his eyes off the strange floating girl. “Hello…?”

“M’gann,” Wally supplied. “That’s Miss Martian, she’s Martian Manhunter’s niece, you know. Cool, right? And that’s Superboy, Kaldur’s around here somewhere…”

M’gann landed next to him, beaming ear to ear. “I’m so glad you’re here! We’ve all been waiting for Batman to bring us news. We were so worried after you disappeared on us at the library!”

He flushed. “Right. Sorry about that.”

Wally clapped him on the back. “Come on, Rob, don’t start apologizing now. Let’s go gather everyone up so we can hear from you together, huh?” Before he could even think about objecting, the speedster had run off again.

The tall, dark-haired boy who Wally had called Superboy cleared his throat, then offered a hand to him to shake. “I know you probably don’t remember any of us,” he said. “I’m Conner.”

Dick shook it, admiring the firm grip. “Superboy, huh? Any relation to Superman?” Conner crushed his hand even harder, so painfully that he hissed in a sharp breath. “Ow, what’d you do that for—“

“Robin,” said a new male voice.

Dick turned and his eyes widened behind his mask lenses. The dark-skinned stranger before him seemed to be some kind of leader here, because as soon as he entered, everyone else fell silent. “Yeah?” he answered warily.

“We are all glad to see you here in one piece.”

Everyone nodded their agreement, and Wally elbowed him and whispered, “Kaldur likes to make an entrance. He’s Aqualad.”

“Let us all move to the lounge where we will be more comfortable,” Kaldur suggested. “I have the feeling that this conversation will not be a short one.”

There were a few nervous chuckles from M’gann and Wally at that.

“What about Artemis?” Dick asked.

They all fell silent. “You…” M’gann said. “You remember Artemis?”

“Of course, she only saved my derrière the other night. Wasn’t she part of your team, too? Did something happen?”

“Nah, buddy,” Wally said. “She’s fine. She’s probably at home right now. She doesn’t come hang out here as often as I do. She usually only comes for our missions nowadays. Even Kaldur shows up more often than she does. But she’ll be here in a heartbeat as soon as she finds out you finally showed up!”

***

Really only a few moments later, the entire team was curled up on the couches in the lounge area, looking at Dick expectantly as he explained how he’d come through the transport tube from the Batcave.He squirmed a bit, knowing that they were studying him. “So, yeah, I’m here.” He rubbed the back of his head self-consciously. “Though I still don’t know where exactly ‘here’ is.”

“Mount Justice,” Kaldur said. “It is a former base of operations for the Justice League, and now it is ours.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Wally sounded excited as he looked at his friend.

“Sheesh, Wally, you can’t just ask him that!” Artemis said, smacking his shoulder. But then she also turned to look at him with that same expectant smile. They all did.

“What,” he snapped. “Was I like your mastermind or something? You don’t know how to function without me telling you what to do?”

Wally waved a hand. “Nah, that was Batman’s job.”

“You did have a lot of opinions though,” Conner piped up. “About the missions. Wanted to be the leader, too.”

“Please, let’s not bring that up,” Artemis said cautiously. “Not right now.”

“It does not matter,” Aqualad added. “It has no bearing on this current dilemma.”

“How do you know that though?”

As they bickered, Dick felt that he was being watched. He turned to his right and saw M’gann sitting on the couch next to him, staring intently at him in silence.

He chuckled mirthlessly. “Are you reading my mind?”

She blushed and looked down at her hands. “I’m sorry. I guess that was rude. I just… I wonder if I can help at all. With your memory, I mean.”

“Really? How?”

“Oh, it’s probably silly. Besides, I don’t want to make things any worse for you.”

He grabbed one of her hands. “Please tell me. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life as an outsider here. I’ve read about most of you, of course. But I still don’t really know how I was actually connected to… to the team. It’s like I’m floating in outer space while the rest of you are bound by the force of gravity, something that I can’t feel.”

She bit her lip. “I might be able to—“

The distinct sound of the Zeta beam fired up, and everyone stiffened. Then the computer announced, “Recognized, Batman, 02.”

Dick groaned. “Great.”

Wally paled. “I can run you over to the closet, hide you—“

“Don’t bother.”

They all jumped at Batman’s stern voice. He stood in the doorway to the lounge, face unreadable.

Dick slowly got to his feet and faced him. “Batman.”

“Robin.”

The Team gathered around behind him, and while he appreciated their silent support, it would do nothing to sway Batman, he knew.

The standoff continued for a good minute. Dick refused to be the first one to speak up. Bruce was going to have to suck it up and go with this or look bad in front of the Team if he attempted to scold him for sneaking out.

At last Batman spoke. “I see you’ve been reacquainted with the others. That will make your report easier, since they’ll need to know anyway.”

“…My report?” Dick blinked in confusion.

“What did you learn at the Joker’s warehouse?”

So. Batman did suspect he’d uncovered a clue during his recent outing. He folded his arms. “So you’ll let me rejoin the team?”

Batman stayed silent. Of course. Bruce would never let him rejoin the team, not when he’d so blatantly avoided telling him anything. He wanted him to stay out of the action and out of the loop.

“I’m staying,” he told him. “And I’ll report what I learned, but I’m not going to be dragged back to the Cave until I get some real answers.”

Wally gasped at his audacity, but Robin stood his ground. Because that’s what he was. Robin. He might as well start taking his own steps out of the nest. Maybe soon he’d be able to fly with the others again.

At last Batman grunted. If that was about as good of a concession as he was going to get, he’d take it. “Report, Robin. What did you find?”

Robin grinned. “Oh, you know, only the date of Joker’s next attack!” He pulled the mangled letterhead out of his utility belt where he’d hidden it when he changed back in the Batcave. It hadn’t left his person since his fight with Sportsmaster. “It was hidden in a desk drawer with a bunch of ads, but this was the only date that was circled.”

Batman took the flyer and absorbed the information on it. “The city council meeting,” he stated.

“Yeah, well, who knows if that has anything to do with it,” Robin said casually. “The date is coming up, though. Or who knows? Maybe he’ll go after the Mayor of Gotham!”

Batman nodded. “Yes, this aligns with what I’ve uncovered so far. I’ve been keeping an eye on things around the city, watching for more signs of memory loss.”

Everyone in the room froze at that. Batman had avoided telling them any of his progress up until this point, perhaps. That would make sense, Dick supposed. _Secretive dolt._

“Joker has been unusually quiet. As I’m sure you’ve all noticed, there have been very few instances cropping up since… the library.”

The Team exchanged wary glances.

“But why leave this information out in a place where we’re likely to find it?” Artemis asked bluntly. “Robin obviously found it without much trouble. Why wouldn’t he keep his plans hidden away carefully?”

“This is the Joker we’re talking about,” Wally muttered. “Nothing he does makes sense.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Batman cut in. “It makes sense to him, in his twisted brain. And I suspect that he meant for us to find this. He wants to draw us out.”

“So what do we do?” Kaldur asked.

“I want the Team to watch over the meeting from the shadows. Stay out of sight, don’t reveal yourselves unless absolutely necessary, and do _not_ put yourself in danger of losing your memories.”

“Yeah. One messed-up team member is enough, huh?” Dick couldn’t keep all the bitterness from his voice. “Don’t want a repeat of _my_ mistake.”

The other teens looked away awkwardly.

“Your first priority is to stop Joker from hurting anyone,” Batman went on. “There will likely be a lot of high-profile Gotham residents at this particular council meeting, as it pertains to an important zoning decision. You’ll need to be vigilant as Joker could possibly hide amidst the audience members.”

Great. He didn’t like the sound of that at all.

“What about you?” Superboy finally spoke up. His question was directed to Batman. “Will you be helping us?”

Everyone eyed Batman with interest.

“I will be working at this from a different angle,” Batman said. “More than anything, the Joker wants me to make an appearance. So I will simply not appear. It’s up to you to keep things from getting out of control, and if possible, move in to apprehend the Joker. I’ll be monitoring things from a distance.”

_Yeah right, _Dick thought. Bruce Wayne was sure to be at that council meeting, probably the front row.

“Robin, a word.”

Dick folded his arms and stared up at him.

“Alone.”

He glared at his former mentor for a moment longer. But the others shifted and started to file out of the room into other parts of the mountain. Wally patted his back once to reassure him, but it did little to calm the fluttering nerves.

Soon it was just the two of them again.

“I want you to stay back from the mission,” Batman said at last. “There’s no reason for you to be there. If things go south, if either Joker or Sportsmaster show up, we’ll need one of you to be free to get help if needed. Stay in the shadows.”

“So,” Dick said nonchalantly as possible. “You’re letting me join the team, but I can’t help them at all. I’m just dead weight, is that it? Well, too bad. You can’t stop me now that I know. I’ll be there with the others.”

Batman stared intently at him through his blank white lenses. Then at last he turned wordlessly away and stalked back toward the Zeta tubes, his cape flying behind him. In another moment, he was gone in a flash of light.

Dick slumped. “Coward.”


	25. Catastrophe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mission goes out the window. Barbara reaches her breaking point.

**Wally**

As it turned out, City Council meetings were _boring_. Now he questioned Batman’s judgement and wondered if it was all a ruse to distract them from the real target tonight, the bank or a jewelry store or—

_Wally, you’re thinking too loud again._

He glanced over at the dark silhouette of Artemis and made a face at her that she probably couldn’t see. _Well, stop listening, if it bothers you so much._

_Ugh._

The disgust was easily understood even over the mental link, and Wally snickered. He glanced higher up into the rafters where he knew Robin was perched, watching. _Are you sure it’s a good idea that we didn’t link him in? It’s going to hurt him more when he finds out he’s been excluded._

_Batman’s orders,_ Kaldur’s voice interrupted. _At least he was allowed to come._

_Yeah, but only because Batman knew he couldn’t stop him._

_Focus, _Kaldur said firmly_. The Joker could be in the audience already._

Nearly the entire team had squeezed into the attic space directly above the council hall. The only team member not there was Conner, who was seated in the audience below. He’d donned actual normal human clothes other than his ubiquitous black T-shirt, in order to blend in more naturally.

The hall itself was not too large, but big enough for the Gotham City Council members up front, a tiny TV film crew to televise the meeting from their setup in the back, and several rows of wooden benches in between for civilians to observe and participate when appropriate. All in all, it was a pseudo colonial-style room, with the addition of the stereotypical gothic accents that graced most Gotham architecture.

Which was why they had such a good hiding place from which to view the proceedings. The ceiling was supported by several large beams, but between those was an ornate grate system that allowed airflow to clear out the stuffy crowded room and circulate fresher air from the hidden duct vents. Gotta clear out all that hot air from the pompous bureaucrats below, of course. Wally could appreciate that.

And what a lot of hot air was floating around tonight! There was some dispute or hearing about zoning restrictions or something, yada yada, he couldn’t muster the ability to care enough. Instead, he let his eyes roam over the gathered people in the audience, inspecting each through his peephole in the grate. Hopefully his inability to find the Joker meant that the freak wasn’t there. He didn’t show up? Good.

His gaze slipped across Bruce Wayne, dressed in a casual but obviously expensive jacket and slacks, fancy watch glinting up toward the ceiling and flashing a message in Morse Code: _Stay vigilant._

Yeah, yeah. That message had to be for either him or Robin, and since Rob was sulking somewhere above him, he doubted he’d care. None of the rest of the team knew Batman’s identity, he thought. Kaldur might have guessed, but he wasn’t—

_Bang!_

Wally tensed. It wasn’t a gunshot, but the sudden popping sound pierced the droning words of the council members below, and the entire audience began to murmur in disconcertion. Several police officers in the audience jumped into action and ordered everyone to stay down. Commissioner Gordon barked out instructions, sending his men and women around the perimeter.

Then everyone started shouting, and Wally frantically tried to figure out why. The Team’s voices chimed in his head.

_What was that?_

_There’s a commotion at the front of the room, what’s going on?_

_Can you guys see anything from up there?_

The wall behind the mayor’s seat at the top of the dais burst outwards intoshards of wood paneling as something collided with it from behind. Too late Wally realized that the popping sound had been someone smacking the wood with something metal.

_Protect the mayor!_ he all but shouted across the link. _It’s the Joker!_

Sure enough, as the dust cleared, the Joker stood behind the Mayor with his memory wipe gun pressed tightly to the man’s skull, ready to fire.

_Wait for my signal,_ came Kaldur’s direction. _This is going to be difficult to—_

Robin crashed through the ceiling without hesitation. Wally cried out in surprise and frustration. “No! Wait!“

It was useless—Robin had already decided what to do without consulting any of them. He somersaulted into a graceful landing on the dais. “Drop the gun, Joker,” he demanded, an exploding birdarang in each hand. “Drop it or I blow you up.”

Joker raised an eyebrow, which was never a good sign. Then, with the memory gun still pressed to the mayor’s temple, he pulled the trigger.

The mayor screamed and went catatonic. Joker dropped the man without a care and stepped over his shivering prone body. “Who’s next, Robbie boy? You again? Sure, I’ve already made my mark on you once or twice, what’s once more?” He raised the gun and pointed it right at Robin.

Robin threw his exploding birdarangs. Either he’d forgotten or he just didn’t care that the resulting explosions would damage a wide area. There were many slower senior citizens in the front rows of the audience, too close to the blast zone.

Wally didn’t hesitate. He zipped down from his hiding place and caught the weapons. Before they could explode in his hands, he tossed them out the window.

Just in the nick of time, too. As soon as the offending objects were out of the room, they exploded. People in the room screamed, but none looked more upset than Robin.

“What are you doing?” he hissed through his teeth. “Get out of this!”

“You put innocent people in danger!” Wally growled back. He turned to face the Joker, who now had the memory gun pointed at both of them.

The rest of the team jumped or floated down to join them. Miss Martian shouted “Mental shield going up!” and formed a barrier between them and the memory gun. The blast hit the shield and dissipated harmlessly.

This gave Wally the breather he needed to yell at Dick. “What are you doing? You didn’t wait for orders!”

He shrugged. “The orders would have been to ‘stay back and watch for additional enemies.’ Not what I’m here for. Now get out of my way…”

Wally put up a hand to stop him. The real Robin would never have talked like this. “What about collateral damage to civilians! You didn’t even think of the people you’d hurt!”

“I don’t have time for this,” Robin growled. He jumped through the mental shield and ran straight toward the Joker.

“He’s going to get himself killed rushing in like that!” M’gann yelled.

“Believe it or not,” Wally said. “I didn’t teach him that.”

M’gann was forced to drop her shield. “I can’t hold it up when he’s moving so much. But he’s unprotected from those memory blasts!”

Wally sighed. “Let me handle this.” He zipped forward and scooped up Robin in his arms just before a memory beam slashed right through where he’d been about to run. Robin tensed and shouted in anger at being forced to disengage. But Wally didn’t let his struggling throw him off. He ran to the back of the room and deposited his friend in the midst of some security officers crouched down near the doors. “Stay,” he said, as if speaking to a naughty puppy.

Robin shoved away from him. “Get off me.”

“Wally!” Artemis shouted from the other end of the room. “We need cover!”

A new round of screams rose up from the remaining civilians who hadn’t yet made it out of the room. Wally looked up and met Bruce Wayne’s intense gaze where he stood by the door, ushering people out.

“The commissioner!” Kaldur shouted.

Wally pulled his attention back and his stomach sank. In the brief time that he’d been occupied with Robin, the Joker had managed to snag Commissioner Gordon around the neck and now held the memory gun to his temple, just as he had with the Mayor only moments earlier.

The entire team froze.

“Don’t hurt him,” Artemis said slowly, lowering her nocked arrow to point at the floor.

Wally didn’t dare rush forward, but he could feel his heart pounding faster than ever in his chest. His entire body tensed, ready to run.

“Where’s Batman?” The Joker pressed the gun closer to the commissioner’s forehead. “_Why isn’t he here?_”

“Batman is not coming,” Kaldur said. “This time, it is just us.”

To his credit, commissioner Gordon did not speak or move. He hardly even looked afraid—maybe concerned a little. Pissed.

“It’s a shame, then,” the Joker said, and he really did sound disappointed. “Then I must be off.” When Artemis started to step toward him, he shoved the gun barrel against the poor guy’s forehead even more firmly. “Ah ah ah! None of that, now. If you want me to keep this fellow’s memory intact, you’ll stay here and not follow.”

A half-dozen silent shouts rang through the mental link, and Wally had to block them out in order to hear his own racing thoughts. The Joker was taking Gordon as a hostage? No no no, Barbara would kill him if he let this happen—

An explosion behind them rocked the room. The chandelier above tinkled softly as the glass charms clinked against each other.

Wally glanced back and saw Robin in the midst of the security officers… who were all unconscious from his gas bomb. He rolled his eyes. “Can’t leave you alone for a—“

Superboy shouted and rushed past him toward the front of the room. Wally whipped back to see what was happening.

The Joker stood next to the closest floor-to-ceiling window, still gripping the commissioner around the neck. He nudged the window open with his foot. “Tell Batman I said hello. If he wants to find me, he’ll know where to look.”

Wally’s heart stopped as the deranged villain tugged the commissioner all the way back and stepped outside onto the balcony. He wanted to rush forward like Conner, but he was terrified that the gun would go off and wipe Gordon’s memories. After all, the Joker had proven he had no qualms about doing so.

Robin shoved past him, and Wally stumbled to keep his balance. His friend leaped toward the balcony after Conner, but both of them were too late.

A ladder dropped from above, and the Joker snagged it with his gun arm while he hoisted the commissioner with him. They sailed up into the sky as an unseen helicopter dragged them off. Sportsmaster, most likely. It seemed they made up.

Both Superboy and Robin stopped on the balcony, watching while they seethed.

Before Wally could say anything, Conner turned on Robin. “What were you THINKING?”

“I would have had him, if Kid Flash hadn’t interfered,” Robin responded coldly. “This is not my fault.”

“Uh, yeah, it kinda is,” Artemis piped up. Wally tried to signal to her to stop, but she ignored him. “We’re supposed to be heroes,” she pressed on. “Not lone wolves with a grudge.”

“Artemis is right,” Kaldur said. “If you cannot be relied on to keep civilians safe in a skirmish like this, I am not sure that this team can trust you to help at the moment.”

“Guys,” Wally said, feeling a terrible weight in his stomach. “Maybe we should talk about this later—“

“Fine.” Robin’s sharp tone cut him off. “But just know that if I’d been allowed to act as I saw fit, the commissioner would be standing here giving me this lecture himself, and I wouldn’t have to listen to you.” He ran toward the open window and fired his grapple gun even as he leaped off the balcony. In a breath, he was gone into the night just like the Joker and Gordon.

Conner growled and slammed his fist into the wall.

Wally felt inclined to do the same. He’d never seen Dick act or talk that way.

Kaldur, standing next to him, sighed heavily. “I do not know what to do,” he admitted quietly. “I need to talk to him, but I think he would listen better to you.” He turned to Wally. “I want you to go to him. The rest of us will continue working the mission. If we can find Sportsmaster, he may lead us to the Joker. But your help is critical on this more personal front. Robin may be unstable right now, but I do not think we should leave him out of this entirely.”

Wally glanced over at the scattered bodies of the unconscious security guards that Robin’s knockout gas had… knocked out. “I agree,” he said. “I’ll talk to him.”

* * *

**Barbara**

“No, no, no…” Barbara backed away from the TV, phone pressed to her ear. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing and hearing. The news continued to show images of the courthouse and reporters speaking about the _unfortunate abduction_ of the city’s police commissioner. Her father.

“I’m so sorry to tell you like this, Barbara,” came the sympathetic voice of the female police officer on the other end of the line. “We’re doing everything we can. Stay safe, okay? We’ll be sending someone over to park outside your building tonight, just to be safe, all right? Your father will be back before you know it.”

She hung up and pressed her fist to her mouth, holding in a scream. This wasn’t possible. Her father had been in close calls before, but never kidnapped. Never threatened so directly by the Joker, who could wipe memories to devastating effect. How could this even happen? How did _Batman_ let it happen? Why hadn’t he stopped the Joker immediately after what happened to Robin?

She straightened. There was only one person who might be able to give an answer as to how something this terrible could have happened.

Dick Grayson.

She grabbed her hoodie and headed out the front door before the police arrived for their post outside.

It wasn’t hard to get to Wayne Manor—she took the metro to the end of the line, a taxi to the front gate of the manor, and then used the same tree to climb over the fence that she always did. Easy peasy. 

But the pit in her stomach sank further when she climbed up to Dick’ window and heard voices inside. Angry voices. 

“I’m not going to let you keep doing this to yourself and your friends,” someone was saying. Maybe Wally. Yeah, that sounded like his plaintive voice. “We’re worried about you, man. What can we do to help?”

“You can’t. Just leave me alone. I’ll figure it out.”

“Nuh-uh. You’re my best mate. I’m not going to let you keep suffering alone in the name of ‘figuring it out.’” Definitely Wally. 

She shifted closer to the window.

“I’m not the friend you remember,” Dick said at last. His voice sounded hollow. 

Barbara shivered.

“Uh, yeah you are. I don’t care what you do or don’t remember. I love you like a brother. It’s not going to be that easy to push me away.”

Barbara shoved open the window and tumbled in. Both Dick and Wally stared at her from the other side of the bed. Dick looked more angry than surprised. She brushed herself off and stood up straight. “I hate to interrupt this bro-love fest, but I need to talk to you.”

Dick nodded slowly, as though he’d expected this. “Go on. Tear into me. Everyone else is doing it, I suppose. What’s one more?”

Her words faltered on her tongue. “You...” She took a deep breath to center herself again, and found that pit of anger still boiling beneath the surface. “You were both there, weren’t you, at the council meeting? Your little team was there. My dad was taken right out from under your noses! What happened?!” She lunged forward and grabbed at both of them, but Wally dodged out of her way so she only got Dick’s shirt in her shaking fist. “Tell me what happened!”

“I’m not the one you should talk to,” he said. “I’m not the one who messed things up. I would have stopped the Joker before he even got his hands on your father if the Team hadn’t interfered.”

She released him and stepped back. “I can’t even believe you right now. You don’t even care, do you? You just watched as the Joker made off with my _dad_, and you didn’t even feel anything?”

“Just stop,” he said. “Stop piling on, both of you! Of course I felt things! Frustration and anger, just as anyone would. But I don’t know your father. I barely know _you_.” He struggled to find the words. “But… it’s hard to keep guessing what all of you want me to think and do. I try to do what I’m supposed to do, and I get yelled at for messing up!”

She swallowed.

He stalked towards her with his hands clenched. “What would you have me do? I can’t run after the Joker now, or Bruce would grab me before I took five steps out the door. I can’t take back anything I did earlier, because it’s already happened. I can’t read the Joker’s mind, or know what the Team expects from me in any given moment. It doesn’t work like that. I just can’t remember what I’m supposed to be _like_.”

Barbara didn’t answer in the silence that followed. She just shrank back and stared at the wall. This wasn’t good, but she knew she wasn’t in a good space to help her friend when all she wanted to do was sock him in the nose. He needed something, but what could she do? He’d let her down. The whole team had let her down. 

She turned toward the still-open window. 

“Where are you going?” Wally asked. “You just got here!”

She shook her head. “I’ve heard enough.” She glanced back at Dick and was startled to see that his hostile attitude had slipped, revealing a deep remorse underneath. He quickly hid it again under a scowl, but she’d already seen it. He must feel so lost, she thought. But then again, so did she. “If no one else will fix this,” she said at last. “Then I’m going to have to do something about it myself.”

She jumped out the window into the welcoming arms of the tree. She scrambled down, confused by the tears that welled up in her eyes. She dropped heavily onto the ground and stumbled a step. She wiped her eyes furiously while trying to catch her balance.

“Steady on there, miss,” came a polite male voice.

She froze. Alfred stood a few paces away, in an open side door of the mansion. Warm light streamed out around him. He must have heard the ruckus as she made her way clumsily down the climbing tree. “Sorry,” she croaked, ashamed at the rough emotion in her voice. “I’m just leaving.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Do let me drive you home, Miss Gordon,” he said. “It’s well after dark.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to trouble you—”

“It would be my pleasure,” he insisted. “I shall just fetch my coat. Come along to the garage.”

Unable to come up with a good enough excuse, she shuffled inside at his beckon.

Moments later, she found herself seated in the front seat of a black Bentley, a travel mug of steaming tea in her hands, and Alfred behind the wheel next to her. He waited until they were out the driveway before breaking the awkward silence. “I gather that your conversation with Master Dick did not go well.”

She flinched, nearly spilling her tea on the leather seat. “Yeah, no. I guess not.” She tapped her fingers on the mug. “How much do you really know about Dick’s life?” she asked finally. “And his connection to Wally and the ‘Team?’ It really doesn’t seem like they were involved in the types of activities Bruce would be okay with if he knew, but you must have known something.”

Alfred nodded in recognition. “So you’ve learned more about that, have you?”

“Well, it wasn’t hard to figure it out after the events of the library.” She busied herself by taking a sip. It was perfectly steeped, slightly sweet, and spicy enough to help clear her mind. “So you do know? About… about Robin and his team of heroes?”

“Ah.” Alfred fell silent for another long moment, his eyes unswerving from the road ahead. At last his lips twitched in an almost-smile. “I am not officially at liberty to discuss that subject with, ah, civilians.”

She immediately thought of her secret project in its cardboard box under her bed. “What about a potential colleague?” This was crazy. She wasn’t having this conversation right now. Alfred was in close confidence with Robin, and presumably Batman, at least by association.

“You’re saying you have plans to join the masked vigilantes?”

She shrugged. “I’m not really saying anything. But I want to know this: how did you stand it? Knowing that he was out there, putting himself in the line of fire, helping people but drawing the attention of crazies like the Joker? That he might not come home?”

“The truth is that it is a constant battle for hope,” Alfred said softly. “It is a habit. A learned way of being, and it does get a little easier with practice. And seeing the good that is done… I believe it is worth it. Not only to the people of the city, but even the benefits to those who save it every day are truly tangible. You may not understand yet, but if you do take this path, you will soon see what I mean.”

“But the cost…” She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. “How can you bear it?”

“I don’t know, Miss Gordon.” He looked over at her. “Time will tell.”

They pulled up to her apartment and he parked a few cars behind the police vehicle that had been stationed outside. Before she could get out, however, he held out his fist. “Please, take this at least. If you do decide to go out there, it may be of some help.”

She accepted the small round object from him and held it up to the dim light of the streetlamp outside to inspect it. A small speaker. A comm unit. It dawned on her that he was offering her his support, the same as he might have to Robin. Feeling strangely choked up by the earnest look in his kind eyes, she managed to say, “Thank you. I’ll let you know.”


	26. Brainstorming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Wally take a trip to Mount Justice, and the Team takes a trip of their own... into Robin's mind.

**PART 3 - ** **WINGS**

**Wally**

Wally sighed. Dick sighed. They glanced at each other in the wake of Barbara’s departure. “Not cool, bro,” Wally said at last. “I know you’re confused, but-“

To his dismay, Dick just sank to the floor and put his head in his hands.

“Whoa, hey buddy, I didn’t mean to… are you all right?”

Dick shook his head and sniffed. “I wish I could be better at this,” he admitted in a soft tone. “I’m trying. I’m really _trying,_ Wally. It’s just, I don’t remember caring.” He huddled up against the bed frame and hugged his knees.

Wally sat next to him. He folded his hands, then unfolded them. Then he also pulled his knees up and rested his chin on them as he regarded his friend. He’d never seen Dick look so lost.

“I’m just going on what everyone tells me I should think and feel,” Dick went on, his voice muffled by his arms. “Don’t tell Barbara, but she’s right. I don’t actually feel anything. I’m just… empty.”

Wally couldn’t find any words that could make this better. There was nothing to say to that. He wanted to make a joke, cheer him up somehow, but of course this wasn’t the time.

“I can’t seem to do things right, like the old Robin apparently used to.”

He hated the self-loathing that he heard in that sentence. “Listen, Dick, it’s not that you need to suddenly be _that_ person again. Even if you got your memories back, you’d be changed by this experience, right?”

Dick shrugged.

Wally hesitated. He was forming an idea that he was afraid to try, but at this point, there wasn’t much else he could do. He just hoped the Team took it the right way. “Hey,” he said. “Want to go on a field trip?”

Dick finally focused on him, a hint of curiosity rising in his intense blue eyes. “Is it the fun kind or the boring kind?”

“Well, it’s definitely not the boring kind.”

A faint smile flickered at the corners of his mouth before he seemed to quash it down again. “All right. Let’s go trip some fields.”

***

Both clad in their hero gear, Kid Flash and Robin entered Mount Justice as their arrival was announced by the computer.

“Wait here,” Wally said, and raced off before waiting for an answer. He zipped through the compound at super speed, searching for any sign of M’gann or Conner or anyone else.

He found Conner playing with Wolf in the hangar. “Hey Supes,” he called. “Seen M’gann anywhere?”

Conner threw the stick he was holding across the hangar for Wolf to chase. Unfortunately, he must have put too much power into the throw, because the stick stuck into the far wall, too high up for Wolf to jump and grab. Wally noted that there were at least half a dozen other sticks wedged into the wall around it. Conner grunted and turned to him. “Check the kitchen,” he said. Then he turned his head toward the door. “You brought Robin here? That might not be a good idea.”

Wally shrugged. “We’ve got to do _something,_ or this is never going to get better. I’m going to find M’gann. Is anyone else here?”

Conner nodded. “Kaldur was about to call you. We’re having a team meeting soon. Artemis is already on her way.”

“All right, wonderful, meet ya in the debriefing room in five!”

“Is that in minutes or seconds?”

Wally raced to the kitchen and found M’gann scrubbing at a large bowl in the sink. It looked like she’d been cleaning it for awhile, because it practically sparkled beneath her washcloth.

He leaned against the cupboards. “Lost in thought?”

She jumped and slapped him with the wet cloth.

“What was that for?”

She grabbed back the cloth and wrung it out over the sink. “I’m sorry, Wally. It’s just been a long day.”

“Listen, I need your help with something,” he said. He took a deep breath. “It involves Robin’s memories.”

She froze in the middle of wringing out the washcloth. “Oh?”

“Remember before when you said you wondered if there was anything you could do to help him? Well, I have an idea. It might make things worse, though, but hey, at this point what more could go wrong?”

She furrowed her brow sharply. “A lot could go wrong. But what do you have in mind?”

***

The entire team gathered in the debriefing room. Wally pushed Robin into the center, and the Team formed a loose half-circle around him.

“So, KF, gonna tell us what’s this all about yet?” Dick asked, his voice light.

“M’gann has agreed to try something using her powers. With your permission, I’d like to try giving you our memories of our time together. It might help jog something for you, but at the very least, you’ll be able to see the experiences that formed this team.”

Kaldur nodded. “I can see how this may help Robin,” he said. “However, it cannot be without risk.”

“Nah, it’s perfectly safe-“

“There are some risks,” M’gann cut in, talking over Wally.

He huffed. Rude.

She looked at each of her teammates with a grave expression. “Remember when we all lost months of our memories in the desert, that time when Psimon blasted us with his psychic beam?”

Wally stole a look at Dick and saw his puzzlement at that statement. Right. _He_ wouldn’t remember.

M’gann went on. “That was simply a block from our existing memories. He didn’t actually erase anything. I don’t know much about how the Joker’s memory gun works, but it could be dangerous for us all to open our minds to Robin’s.”

“You think my mind might be tainted in some way?” Robin asked.

“Not tainted,” she said. “But definitely injured. You’re hurting, we can all tell. It isn’t like just a physical or emotional wound, however. This is a mental wound. Once we open ourselves up to it, it could backfire on us. I’ll do my best to shield everyone from that happening.”

“See?” Wally said cheerfully. “Nothing to worry about!”

She held up a finger. “There is one more thing.” She looked right at Robin. “You have to open your mind up completely to me for this to work. No resistance, or it may hurt a lot. If you wish, I’ll shield your identity, as Batman hasn’t entrusted that to all of us yet, but you have to give up anything you’re holding onto behind your mental walls.”

He hesitated, then nodded silently.

She looked around the room. “We should probably all sit down. This might take awhile.”

* * *

**Dick**

_Just relax. I’ll take care of the rest._

M’gann’s voice entered his mind, something he still wasn’t sure he was comfortable with. But he’d committed to this now. He sat cross-legged on the floor—on a pillow because Wally had run off to grab some from the spare rooms for each of them. He opened one eye and saw the rest of the Team similarly situated.

_Close your eyes,_ M’gann said. _And open your mind._

He let his eyelids fall shut, and he pictured a locked gate around his mind opening up wide, allowing M’gann’s mental energy to probe inside. He ground his teeth together at the unpleasant sensation.

She appeared in his mental space. “I’m going to link up everyone else. You ready?”

“As ready as I can be.”

She fell silent for a moment, apparently linking up the rest of the team.

“Hey Rob!”

He jumped and found Wally standing next to him in his mind.

“This is really weird, huh? Being inside Robin’s head?” Wally poked at his forehead. “Isn’t it nicer with some activity inside for once?”

Kaldur appeared next to Wally. “Stop that,” he said, brushing Wally away. “We are here for a reason.”

“Yes, Dad,” Wally said, and stuck out his tongue at Kaldur.

“Real mature,” Dick said, and despite everything, he found himself relaxing a bit.

One by one, the rest of the team manifested in his mental lobby.

“Hey wait,” Wally said. “Why does your mind look like the Batcave?”

“Because I live with Batman, dummy.” Still, he hadn’t really noticed before Wally mentioned it. The decor was shadowy and incomplete, but his mental space indeed somewhat resembled the natural cave walls of the Batcave.

Artemis shrugged. "Well, no use sitting around. We're here, might as well make the most of it. M’gann, what do we do now?"

M’gann took a deep breath. "Okay, this might be kind of weird, but I'm going to reach into your minds and pull out anything that you can contribute to help Robin remember his time with us. From the beginning to the last time we saw him. Does that make sense?"

The all nodded. 

"Now Robin," she went on. "The memories might come out of order, kind of all jumbled up. I'll do my best to keep them organized, but I’ll probably miss some.”

He shrugged. "It's not like I'll know," he said. "That's fine. I'll try to make sense of everything later, I guess."

"Me first!" Wally said and hopped a little in place. "Do I just summon up everything I can remember?"

M'gann nodded and extended a spectral version of her hand that reached out to touch Wally's forehead. She reached out another glowing hand to touch Dick's own forehead. "Here we go," she said, and the images began.

The first memory was of the time that Robin met Kid Flash for the first time... And the strangest thing was that he saw everything through Wally’s thoughts and point of view.

_Wally ran around Batman and zipped back to the Flash's side. He noticed something moving under Batman's cape and he laughed, startled. He pointed for his mentor's sake. "Hey look, it's Robin, the Boy Wonder!"_

_Robin hopped out from under Batman's cape. Gosh, he looked so tiny. He looked to be no older than ten years old. But he quickly shot back his own quip, “Hey look, it's Kid Flash, the Obvious!"_

_They stared at each other in stony silence for a long moment, then Wally laughed suddenly. "I like you," he said. "Friends?"_

_Robin gripped his forearm in a style that Batman often used. "Friends," he said, then did a backflip into a handstand as their respective mentors sighed at the ridiculous exchange. _

Time skipped ahead a few months. 

_This time, Batman and Robin had come to help out Flash with a tough villain who was terrorizing their city. Wally wasn't supposed to be there, but he'd snuck out and was watching from a distance while the two adults and the flippy kid were working together to fight the metahuman villain. Why could Robin help but Wally couldn't? _

_It wasn't fair, and Wally refused to let it stand. He ran down to join them. _

_"Hey KF!" Robin called in a friendly way, even as he flipped to dodge a green laser blast from the villain's eyes. "Come to help us out?"_

_"No, he didn't," Flash said in exasperation. "I thought I told you to stay home, kid!"_

_"Well, too late, he's here now!" Robin said cheekily._

_Wally grinned at Robin and together they took out the villain._

More memories poured in, some short, some longer. Each time it was as if Dick were sitting between Wally’s eyes and seeing what he saw. He was granted memories of fun times they had pranking each other, and birthday parties, and the time Dick told Wally about his parents' deaths, and the way they complained to each other about their mentors, and dreaming about the day they could join the Justice League. 

Then M’gann switched to Kaldur, and he was barraged by memories from the older teen’s perspective. He saw Kaldur meet him at a formal event in Atlantis with Aquaman, he saw times that they sparred together, and the time Kaldur tried to teach him how to speak Dolphin. 

Then came a memory that seemed different. He'd caught a glimpse of something like this in Wally's memory, but for Kaldur, this stood out as a shining bright star in the galaxy of other memories.

_At the Hall of Justice. Aquaman, Batman, Flash, and Green Arrow had brought their partners with them to give them access._

_"Why isn't anyone ever just whelmed?" _

_Kaldur smiled to himself and followed the group into the grand hall, where the statues of the League towered over them. _

_"Oh, maybe that's why."_

A few moments later, there was a break with the heroes when they learned that they were to be excluded from the Watchtower and official League business. Speedy left, but Kaldur and the younger two stayed and decided to take matters into their own hands.

The memories showed them infiltrating Cadmus, meeting Superboy, and defeating a monster. The League showed up and allowed them to form their own team.

Kaldur's memories blurred together then, showing many missions and adventures with the Team.

There was the time that Robin tried to become the leader and eventually gave the mantle to Kaldur.

_Kaldur put his hand on Robin's shoulder. "You were born to lead this team. Maybe not now, but soon."_

The words shocked Dick. What made him so certain?

Then the memories slowed, and M’gann pulled out of Kaldur's head. 

The Team rotated through all of their individual memories. He saw M’gann's introduction. He saw Superboy's first memories as he woke up in the lab and saw them. Each one of the memories was tinged with a strange sense of loss and sadness, though. He realized their emotions were carrying through over the mental link as well. 

Then it was Artemis' turn. Her memories didn't start with her introduction to the team. They started earlier. 

_Gotham Academy. Artemis stood outside, watching the fight unfold. When the team inside seemed to be losing, she interfered. She fired a shot into the fray, protecting the other kids and helping turn the tide. She knew it was a risk. Robin was in there, and he might be able to track her with her arrow. But she couldn't just watch them die._

_As soon as she knew they were safe, she ran. Someone from the League would surely be arriving to clean things up, and she didn't want to make it easy for them to find and question her._

But the memory immediately flowed into another one. 

_At home, the Gotham Academy acceptance letter weighed heavily in her hands. There was something not right about all of this. She knew that Batman had wanted her to be closer where he could keep an eye on her. She supposed he'd pulled some strings..._

_And then Batman and Green Arrow caught up to her and convinced her to work with them. She found herself joining the Team and constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. But despite how annoying Wally was, she appreciated that Robin went out of his way to make sure that she felt safe and comfortable with them. Almost like he knew._

_Maybe he did._

Then the scene shifted again.

_Darkness. Crawling in the ducts of the mountain base. Artemis was fighting a panic attack as their friends were dying and powerful enemies attacked the mountain from within. _

_We're not going to make it, she thought. How could Robin keep his cool in a time like this?_

_"You seem distraught," he said._

_When she admitted that of course she did, their friends could be dying, he turned serious._

_"Get traught or get dead."_

The memories flowed together faster then. M’gann rotated back through all of them again, allowing them to summon up more memories to give to him.

He saw missions in Bialya, Santa Prisca, and Gotham. He saw the missions that went wrong, and the times they worked with others like Red Arrow. 

Finally he saw their last mission, the one where everything went wrong.

He saw the debriefing with Batman through Kaldur's eyes. He saw the fight with Joker through Artemis and Superboy.

And he saw the moment he got captured through Wally's memory.

_He was stuck. Wally couldn’t move his legs, stuck by some kind of rapidly expanding foam that quickly hardened. _

_The Joker, standing nearby as he flipped his knife around, laughed maniacally at his attempts to free himself. “Aw, the zippy whiz kid can’t even move a millimeter! Hahaha!”_

_And then Joker’s laughter was echoed by a cackle that was very familiar to Wally. Robin had found him! Was the rest of the Team with him?_

_“Let Kid Flash go!” Robin yelled from the cover of the trees._

_The Joker slipped his knife under Wally’s chin. “Oh goody, we have company! But I wouldn’t be too hasty, Bird-brain. One wrong move and Flash Junior gets a one-way express ticket to Ghost Town.”_

_“Don’t!” There was a hint of fear in Rob’s voice that time. “What do you want?”_

_Joker traced the tip of his knife on Wally’s neck. He tried not to breathe, for fear of getting cut. “How about an old-fashioned trade? You for him? The Bird for the Kid?”_

_No… Wally wanted to yell for Robin to run, get help, do anything except agree to Joker’s trade. It was stupid!_

_But of course Robin dropped out into plain sight. He dropped his staff weapon and held up his hands. “Fine, sure. Just don’t hurt him.”_

_The thugs were on him in seconds, and Joker abandoned Wally in favor of his new prey. “Good Robbie boy! What fun we will have together…” _

_And then they were gone, vanished into the jungle with Robin in tow. Wally was left behind, screaming Robin’s name._

That was the end. The memories faded to a stop, and the others quietly pulled out of his mind.

All except M’gann. She lingered, watching him carefully. 

He held his head in his hands, trying to deal with all the different perspectives and variations on memories that he was a part of. It was painful in a way, to see them all working together and sharing experiences that he had no direct memory of himself. He'd been there, he knew that now. But the memories were all from their perspective. He still didn't know how to _feel_ about all of it. He gripped his hair and tried to deaden the pain a little.

"What is that music?" M’gann asked suddenly.

He lowered his hands. "Music...?" He cocked his head to the side and froze. Sure enough, now that he was listening for it, there was a faint lullaby echoing distantly in his mind. He knew that song, but like all the times he'd heard it before, he couldn't place it. He didn't know _how_ he knew it. It just kept cycling in his mind, the haunting lyrics burning themselves into his head—

_Sweet dreams are winging_

_Like birds they are singing_

_And you are the star in my sky.  
_

_Remember your nest-dreams_

_They'll be all your best dreams_

_And there you will learn how to fly._

"I don't know." He hated this. He hated not knowing, he hated not remembering along with them. Maybe it would help a little, only time would tell, but he still wasn't any closer to actually remembering for himself.

"It sounds to me like a mental wall," M’gann mused. "Batman must have trained you in how to withstand mental attacks and telepaths, because he uses a similar method to block his thoughts from my uncle and me. I can't unlock it for you to see what's behind it, though."

He looked up. "A mental wall... You mean, there might be something behind it?"

She didn't meet his eyes. "I'm not sure. Possibly. Though it doesn't make sense to me why you can't access it if you're the one who put it up."

They listened to the melody repeat a few times.

"Who's singing it?" M’gann mused, not really asking him directly. "It sounds like a woman."

He shrugged.

"That might be the key to unlocking it," she said, brightening. "If you can find out, maybe ask Batman to—“

"No!" He immediately felt bad for snapping at her, but there was no way in hell he was going to talk to Bruce about any of this. 

"I'm only saying that he might be able to give you more memories that will help," she said carefully. "At least think about it." With that, she pulled out of his mind, leaving him alone with the music in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's an early update this week, since I'll be traveling this weekend. And we've entered the final act of the story!
> 
> Also, at some point I'll upload the song that's stuck in Dick's head - I wrote a little melody to go with it. :3


	27. Seeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wally tries to be a listening ear and gets another of his ideas, and Barbara dons a new uniform for the first time.

**Wally**

When they'd all returned to their bodies and opened their eyes, it was obvious that something was bothering Dick. Of course, it couldn’t be easy to have so many different memories all dumped on you in one day, but beyond that, Wally could tell that something more was eating at him. Also, M’gann looked upset, as if they’d had some kind of conversation after the rest of them had left.

To his surprise, she opened a private thought line to him. _Robin needs to talk to Batman,_ she said firmly. _He needs to see more memories, and Batman knows him better than any of us. There’s something missing, the piece that makes him a hero._

Wally nodded, then realized that Dick was looking at him, so he tried to cover with a yawn and stretch. “All right, I’m pooped. Yo, Rob, I’ll go back to Gotham with you, if you don’t mind. Think Bats will let me crash at your place?”

Robin shrugged. He’d been doing that a lot lately, it seemed.

They said their goodbyes to the team, and went out via the Zeta tube.

When they stepped into the Batcave, Dick deflated. Wally grabbed his arm automatically, thinking he was about to fall, but Dick shoved him off.

“I’m fine,” he said, looking anything but fine.

“Riiiight,” Wally said. “Look, it’s late. Let’s change and go up to your room.”

Once there, Wally flopped on the giant bed. “What’s on your mind?”

“A song,” Dick muttered.

“A wha?”

Dick waved him off. “Never mind. It’s just been a long day.” He stretched out facing the opposite way so that his feet were right by Wally’s head.

“Dude, move your feet! They stink!”

But rather than shoot a snarky comeback, Dick was silent.

“Come on, talk to me. What are you thinking about?” Wally nudged his shoulder with his foot.

“Everyone else has been moving into the future with all this history, and I’m stuck watching your bond from afar. I’m just standing in your dust.” His next words were so quiet that Wally could hardly hear them. “I’m as alone as ever, I just know what I’m missing out on now.”

“You aren’t missing out—“

Dick sat up and gave him a glare. “Really, Wally? Please try to see things from my point of view. I _should_ be part of the Team, but then again, why do you keep me out of your group mind-speech? I should be participating… and yet it just can’t be.”

They faced each other in silence. Wally fiddled with the decorative pillow sham, tugging the wrinkles out. There had to be something he could do to help. He remembered what M’gann had said about talking to Batman. “That’s it,” he murmured.

“What?”

“I might just have another idea.” Wally wiggled his finger in the air while he thought. “Each of us has something that compels us to do what heroes do. There’s a foundation for each of us. For Bruce Wayne, it was his parents’ murder when he was a kid. For you, it was always the incident that set your new life in motion: the accident at the circus that took your family away from you.”

Dick huffed. “I _know,_ Wally. I’ve read all about it. It’s nothing new to me.”

“Yeah, you’ve read about it, sure, but you don’t remember being there as it happened, do you?”

“What are you getting at? Of course I don’t remember, that’s why we’re having this whole discussion!”

Wally grinned, his enthusiasm for the idea getting the better of him. “But there’s someone else who was there who could share that memory with you.”

Dick frowned. “I must have missed that part. Who are you talking about?”

“Bruce, of course! He was there when your parents died that night. He knew you before any of us. If anything can ground you as a hero again, it’s that experience. M’gann could help Bruce give you his memories, but first we have to get him to agree to it, which might take some creative thinking, but—”

“No.”

Wally faltered. “Er, no what?”

“No! I won’t involve Bruce in this. He doesn’t care. I wouldn’t want to bother him.”

Wally didn’t know what to say to that nonsense. “What are you talking about? Bruce would move heaven and earth for you. He’d go to hell and back for you!”

Dick scoffed. “Chyeah, right. He can barely look at me without wincing. I don’t know what he was like before all of this, but trust me, right now he doesn’t want me around.”

That was strange. That was very strange. Dick’s mentor, guardian, and father-figure wouldn’t push him away, would he? It didn’t make sense. Sure, Bruce Wayne was sometimes distant and put on a show for the cameras, and Batman could seem cold and strict, but there was definitely a softer side to their relationship. He’d seen them together together often enough to tell that much. They sparred and played chess and shot hoops together. One time Wayne bought them heaps of ice cream on a hot summer Gotham day and sat down to enjoy it with them, embarrassing Dick with his attempts at humor. Bruce loved Dick Grayson. That was no secret to the media or to Wally.

But the finality with which Dick said those words made him pause. Something had happened between the two of them that made Bruce take a step back from Dick, or that made Dick push him away. Whatever it was, it was threatening any chance that Dick had at recovering his foundation.

It wasn’t his place to speak to that, however. He sighed. “All right. Well, think about it at least. Bruce has a potential key to help you. You just gotta convince him to help.”

Dick didn’t answer, but it was obvious that Wally’s words had lodged somewhere in his thoughts. That would have to be good enough for now.

* * *

**Barbara**

The unassuming box in the corner of her room seemed to whisper to her constantly now. She had to work hard to ignore it until her babysitter, a distant aunt who’d decided to be her caretaker until her father was found, went to bed. It was almost painful to sit at her desk and pretend to do homework while the box’s contents continued to entice her with promises of finding her father and stopping the Joker’s schemes.

Around midnight the old woman finally said goodnight and retired to the spare room. Barbara breathed a sigh of relief. Time to get to work.

She dumped out the contents of the cardboard box onto her bed. She’d been hoarding fabric and tools for weeks, and now she was finally going to finish the project she’d been picking away at.

As she’d told Wally and Dick, it was time to stop relying on others to be the hero she needed. It was time to take matters into her own hands.

After all, if you want something done right, you do it yourself.

At school, Bette often teased her for being a perfectionist and an overachiever. But she was wrong.

More than anything else, Barbara was a realist. And that meant that she knew the chances of the GCPD recovering her father alive were slim to none. She needed to go after the Joker herself if she wanted to improve his chances of surviving this. She couldn’t rely on Batman, not when he was likely preoccupied with Robin’s lost memory and the chaos following the recent attack on the city council. He might be loyal to his Commissioner, but he was still a very busy man.

Joker had dropped clues on purpose. Clues that were meant for Batman, but if Batman couldn’t find him in time, her father would be killed or memory wiped without hesitation.

This required a new angle. She pulled out the incomplete hand-made costume and the yellow utility belt, modeled after Robin’s own belt. She had a pair of leather gloves she’d found at a thrift store. A long swath of fabric meant to act as a cape, like Batman’s. If she was going to establish herself here in Gotham, she’d need a silhouette that reminded everyone of the one icon that symbolized power, protection, and justice. She was going to become something greater than herself.

She finished stitching the bat on the front of the costume. She stitched so vigorously that she stabbed herself in the finger more than once. She wiped off the slight amount of blood and kept working.

At last it was done. Or at least, done enough to suffice for now.

She pulled it on and donned the bat-mask over her head. Her red hair flowed out behind it. She fastened the belt and suddenly felt ten feet tall. She turned to face the mirror on the back of her door.

Her face was determined, and she knew that while it wouldn’t be easy, she could track down the Joker herself. She could do this.

She placed Alfred’s comm into her ear, then tapped it with her finger. It chirped, letting her know it was online.

“Hello?” she said carefully.

After a moment, Alfred’s mild voice crackled over the airwaves to her ear. “Hello,” he said. “Who am I addressing?”

She raised her chin, facing her new reflection with confidence. “You can call me Batgirl.”


	28. Contemplation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred talks some sense into our boy.

**Dick**

_On the rings_—_a flip, another flip, hold a T-pose until your muscles shook with the effort. Flip halfway until you’re upside-down, then do the splits. Point your toes. _

_Then swing back until your body is parallel with the ground. Hold that pose until everything is burning. _

Sweat dripped down Dick’s face, staining the white and blue workout clothes he wore while training in the Batcave. This was normal. He could do this. He gathered himself and pumped his legs back and forth once, twice, three times, and released.

He somersaulted three times in the air before reaching his legs out for the landing on the mat. He absorbed the impact with his knees, but it was too much momentum for his previously injured leg to handle, and he toppled forward, arms windmilling. He slammed into the padded post on the other side of the mat.

“Master Dick, I believe that is quite enough,” came Alfred’s calm but reprimanding tone.

Dick rubbed his head. Alfred stood next to the mat, holding a silver platter with a dry face towel and a water bottle. He took the towel in silence and wiped the sweat from his forehead and neck.

“Now, what is this about? It’s far too late for this kind of activity.”

He shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep after Wally went home.”

“You should not be pushing yourself so hard after healing from your recent injuries.”

“It’s been long enough. I’m almost completely better,” Dick grumbled, but he took the offered water. He collapsed onto the bench on the side of the training room. “I can take care of myself, you know.”

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “That may be so, but as long as you are a part of this household, you will not be taking care of yourself _alone_. Do I make myself clear?”

He just grunted.

Alfred tucked the empty platter under his arm. “Wash up and come up to the kitchen,” he urged. “I need some help with the cleaning before bed.”

An obvious lie. In the weeks he’d been living at the manor, Alfred never needed help with anything, it seemed. But Dick could hear the firm command in the butler’s voice, and understood that there was no getting out of this. Alfred wanted to talk.

Probably yet another lecture.

He pushed himself up and winced as his muscles ached. “All right, Alfie,” he said. “I’ll come see you after I shower.”

Alfred nodded and went upstairs.

The cold water of the shower cleared Dick’s head somewhat, but he still felt empty and frustrated. All the memories from the team swam around ceaselessly in his mind. He couldn’t put them to rest. He just kept seeing himself from outside his body, from different angles, through different eyes. There was the fragile, very _human_ child who needed protection by his Kryptonian friend Superboy, followed by Robin the boy wonder and the first hero’s sidekick paving the way for others like Aqualad. Then there was Robin the unflappable veteran who taught Artemis how to keep her cool. The best friend and partner in mischief to Wally West. And Miss Martian was constantly surprised by Robin’s skills and reasoning and leadership.

He didn’t know which one was most like himself. None of them seemed to wholly match who he was now. He wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t a good friend. He was just a leaf being blown about by everyone else’s opinions of him.

He pulled on sweats and a t-shirt and left his damp hair uncombed for now. He climbed the stairs up to the kitchen.

Alfred nodded to him and gestured at the sink. “Do you mind helping with the dishes? I have a soup pot there that won’t fit in the dishwasher.”

Dick did as he was asked without complaint. He felt sorry for Alfred, really. This man was so patient, but they asked so much of him. Bruce asked so much of him, and Dick supposed that he must have done the same, back before he lost his memory. He just didn’t know. But now he was grateful that the man was there, simply existing in the same room with him and letting him stew over the soup pot.

Heh.

He pulled on rubber gloves, grabbed a sponge, and scrubbed away at the dried-on bits of soup from dinner. Wally had scarfed it down and suddenly realized that he had a report due in school the next day, so he’d had to leave right after the meal. Dick was okay with that. He appreciated what Wally was trying to do, but the kid was still just a nice acquaintance, someone who he could occasionally tease. It wasn’t the same as having a friend he could just _be_ around.

But for some reason, Alfred was that kind of person. There was an easy acceptance that radiated off the old man as he rolled out cookies and cut them out into star shapes. He never even looked in Dick’s direction, and yet there was a sense that he was aware of his every movement in case he needed something.

Dick didn’t think there was anyone else in the world who was a treasure quite like Alfred Pennyworth.

At last the pot was shining clean, and Dick carefully toweled it off before placing it on a folded cloth to dry the rest of the way. He left his hand on the counter, staring into the sudsy sink.

“Alfred,” he said at last. “Would you ever be willing to give me the memories you have? Of me, I mean. Any memories that involve me?”

Alfred was silent for a long moment, so Dick turned around to look at him. To his surprise, the old butler seemed to be considering the question very carefully.

He felt the need to clarify. “Miss Martian found a way to channel someone’s memories that contain me into my mind, so I can understand relationships with people that used to be my friends. So I can understand who I used to be.”

Alfred smiled warmly. “Yes. I would be happy to provide all memories I have of you, if you think it would benefit you in any way at all.”

“Even… even the bad ones? No filter?” He twisted the dish towel around in his hands.

Alfred nodded without hesitation. “Of course, my boy. Our memories make us who we are. All of them, for good or ill. They belong to you. They _formed_ you.”

Dick looked at his feet. “I don’t think Bruce believes that.”

Alfred breathed out through his nose. “Master Bruce will eventually come to understand what he needs to do. You shall see.” His eyes turned misty. “Here’s a little secret: you never gave up on him, and it changed his life for the better. He helped you, too, but it’s a sad fact that if he hadn’t had you by his side all these years, keeping him grounded in the light, he may have been lost to the darkness. Do you understand?”

“I think so.” He swallowed.

Alfred rested a worn and wrinkled hand on his shoulder. “I believe in you, Master Dick. Bruce does too, though he’s confused and frightened right now. Your friends are supporting you as well. We’re all here for you in any way you may need us.”

Before Dick could think of a way to overcome the sudden tears that choked him, there was a beep from Alfred’s pocket.

The butler pulled out a pocket-watch with a digital display screen. He regarded it for a long moment. “Ah,” he said at last. “Speaking of help, I do believe your friend Miss Gordon could use some right now.”

Dick hastily wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Me? What happened?”

“Nothing yet.” Alfred’s eyes twinkled with a rare streak of mischief. “But she’s joining the ranks of the masked heroes tonight, I do believe. She could use a detective showing her the ropes.”

Dick let that sink in. Barbara? “She’s going to hunt down Joker,” he said at last. “Of course she is. I should have realized that myself! How did you know?”

Alfred smiled mysteriously. “Oh, this dog still knows a few new tricks. What do you say, Master Dick? Shall you be going out tonight?”

Dick met his gaze steadily. “I still don’t feel like a hero,” he admitted. “But if Barbara needs support… I’ll go. It’s just the right thing to do.”

Alfred nodded in approval. “That’s my boy.”


	29. Convergence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman encounters a new vigilante and has to decide what to do about the Joker.

**Bruce**

He knew he was avoiding Dick. He had been out as Batman all evening, missed dinner at the Manor, and now continued to clean up the mess that the Joker left at the city council meeting. So many witnesses to question, so many clues to investigate… so much guilt to wallow in.

He never should have let Robin join the team again. It wasn’t right. He wasn’t stable, and he’d known it.

He wasn’t making that mistake again. This time, he didn’t tell Dick anything. He didn’t let him know what was happening or fill him in on any plans or contingencies. Last time had been a disaster.

Dick’s snarky voice seemed to say in his head, “_Yeah, disaster, heavy on the ‘dis.’”_

He shook his head. He had work to do now.

Alfred beeped in his ear. “Good evening, Batman,” he said in his dry voice. “You have not checked in for some time.”

“I’m fine,” he said. “Nothing to report.”

“You should talk to Robin,” Alfred said. “Soon.”

“I don’t have time right now. Joker has Gordon, and the night is growing old as it is. I’ll talk to him tomorrow, I promise.”

Alfred paused. “I see. Well, as it is nearly midnight, that promise may be up sooner than you think. Good night. Radio if you need me.” He ended the conversation.

Batman frowned. That was a strangely stiff comment. He hoped that Dick wasn’t being a pain in the neck for poor Alfred.

He’d deal with that later. Right now, he had a date with the Joker.

_“Bats will know where to find me,_” the insane villain had stated. What did that mean? Where would the Joker hide with a prisoner?

He quickly ran through the Joker’s common hideouts. The abandoned theme park. The warehouse district. The sewers. None seemed right.

He could have gone back to the same place where he’d kept Robin. No, that was too obvious, and besides, he’d left motion sensors there to monitor the place.

Had Joker returned to his lair in the jungle where this all began? Too far.

The answer finally came to him, and it was shocking in its simplicity.

It came to him in the form of the Batsignal.

The light that the commissioner used to signal for aid or information from the roof of the police department, emblazoned with the bat symbol, lit up the clouds. Then it slowly swiveled a bit to point at one very specific building, one abandoned tenement tower that had been left empty for ten years after the management went bankrupt.

To anyone else, it would look like the signal was pointed just a little lower than usual. But Batman knew.

Joker was in that building, and he wanted him to know it.

He shot out a grappling hook and sailed across the city, his cape pluming out behind him. As he drew close to the building, he noticed another figure on the building across from the Joker’s hideout. Someone wearing a cape.

His first thought was that it was Robin, run out again, but as he approached silently, he realized that this person was taller and wore a bat costume, similar to his own. He landed on the side of the building below them, and cautiously climbed up to get a better look.

When he was close enough to see the figure, he found a young, feminine form with red hair.

Not good. What was she _doing_ here? He rose to his full height and approached. “Barbara Gordon,” he said.

She yelped and spun around, falling into a practiced judo stance. He couldn’t help but admire her confidence as she recovered and raised her chin defiantly. “Batman.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” He loomed over her now, using his aggressively gravelly voice.

To her credit, she didn’t flinch, now that she knew it was him. “I’m getting results.”

He grimaced. “Of course you are.”

She mistook his expression for a smirk, apparently, because her face turned thunderous. “You think this is _funny?_ My dad’s in trouble! This isn’t a game to me. I’m one hundred percent dead serious about this.”

“You can’t go in there, Barbara,” he said. “It isn’t safe for you or for your father.”

“Batgirl,” she said, as if she hadn’t even heard him. “Call me Batgirl.”

“Fine. Batgirl.” He ground his teeth together. “But the fact remains, if you or anyone else rushes in there, the Joker will wipe Gordon’s memory. Do you really want to be the cause of that?”

She folded her arms. “He wants you, not me. So why can’t you go in?” When he didn’t answer right away, she nodded. “That’s what I thought.” She turned away and ran across the rooftop. She flipped down one level to a narrow building between the two taller ones. A few girders ran across the top of it, and she tried to stay in their shadows to keep from being spotted. 

Despite everything, Batman found himself admiring her skill and instincts. He quickly shook his head. The girl was barely older than Dick. She should not be out here at all. Her father would be furious and terrified if he found out. 

He easily followed her and caught up to her new position where she was able to keep watch over the building in question. This time, she heard him approach. She stepped out of the shadow of the girder and stared up at him defiantly. “Well?”

“You don’t know the Joker like I do,” he said at last. “There’s no guarantee I’ll be coming out of this alive. You wait here and get Gordon to safety once he’s out.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not a fool, Batman. That doesn’t sound like great odds. You need backup in there with you, not someone waiting and twiddling thumbs out here!”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“Uh, yeah, but tough luck, because if... if you’re going in, then I’m going too.”

They stared at each other. He couldn’t let her come in. He _couldn’t_.

“Need any help?”

They both looked up and found Robin hanging upside down from one of the girders, watching them with interest.

Batman glared at him. “Robin.” Silently, he was saying, _You shouldn’t be here._

Robin just returned the glare. “Batman.” The set of his jaw, the narrowing of his eyes, the stiffness in his posture, it all conveyed a stubborn answer: _I don’t care old man. I’m here. Deal with it._

While Batman debated about what he could or couldn’t make Robin do to obey him, his protege shifted his attention to Batgirl. 

“Nice outfit.”

She didn’t even acknowledge him. She just turned away and resumed her watch over the Joker’s presumed hiding place.

“Oh, come on, don’t be mad,” he said, dropping down from above to trot after her. “I’m serious, it looks good! I gotta say, I figured after you found out about Robin that it was only a matter of time before you’d want to join us out here. You seem like quite the go-getter, you know? Can’t let your friends outshine you, huh? So what’s the hero name? Bat Junior? Babybat?” He noticed her red hair. “Gingerbat?”

“It’s Batgirl,” she said tersely. “And this isn’t about you. This is about my dad.” 

“Ah, so you are still angry with me,” he said, raising his gauntleted hands. “Understandable, for sure. But funny thing is, I’m not going anywhere, so you’re stuck with me, I guess.”

“Enough,” Batman said, deciding it was time he took charge of the situation. He rubbed his temples where a headache was starting to form. Since when did he get stuck with not one but TWO precocious kids? Still, he saw potential there as he regarded them objectively. Barbara stood tall and carried herself with strength and grace beyond her years. She could use training, of course, but she’d already come miles on her own, he could tell. Even Robin seemed, well, more like himself. His old self.

Of course Alfred had been right. He was talking to Dick now, forced to accept him into the mission or send him home bitter. This wasn’t a choice he wanted to make right now, but here they were. 

The two kids waited tensely for his verdict. Despite their various attempts to show that they were capable of making their own decisions, they still cared about what he thought. 

“Very well,” he said. “This is what we will do... together.”

* * *

**Wally**

Homework sucked. Wally had just finished his paper and was totally not sleeping in a puddle of drool hunched over his desk when his phone rang. He sat up immediately. It had to be Dick. That kid could only go so long without opening up to someone.

“Yo,” he answered. “What’s up, dude? Why are you calling at...” He checked the time on his laptop. “At 12:30 AM? Jeez, you bats have a real problem, don’t you?”

“Wally, shut up and listen for once!” Dick sounded urgent and whispery, like he was talking into his gauntlet computer or earpiece rather than a true phone. Probably was, too. “I need you to contact the team. Get them here to Gotham as quickly as possible. I’m sending you the coordinates now. When you arrive, do not enter the building until I give the okay. Understood?”

Wally carefully filed all the info away in his mind. “Yup, got it. But why? What’s going on?”

“We’re taking the Joker tonight,” came the confident response. “And we’ll need all the help we can get.” With that, Robin hung up. 

Wally eyed his phone in shock. Dick had almost sounded like his old self.“I sure hope he knows what he’s doing,” he said, and saved his essay before closing his laptop. Time to gather some reinforcements.


	30. Finality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The showdown!

**Dick**

He could hardly contain the jitters of nerves and excitement as he perched on the edge of the roof next to Batgirl. 

“Calm down,” she chided. “Batman said he’d let us know when to move in.”

“I know, I know,” he said. “I guess I’m just distracted.”

“Well, get _tracted_, and fast,” she retorted.

He gaped at her. “I think I might love you.”

She punched his shoulder. “Just wait until you get your memory back and you’ll be sorry you ever said that.”

“What, why?”

She just smirked at him. Sheesh. Girls. 

He smirked back then turned back to watch the building across the street. He imagined Batman sneaking around in there, searching out every floor and every room for where the Joker might have hidden with the commissioner.

_Where’s the signal, where is it?_ He scanned every floor’s window. 

“There it is,” Batgirl said. She pointed at a window second floor from the top. A faint flash of light repeated a few times, then stopped. “One minute,” she said quietly.

Dick began keeping time in his head. “Didn’t know I could do that,” he murmured. Still, he didn’t protest as Barbara pulled a digital stopwatch out of one of her belt pouches and kept time that way as well. A bit of redundancy couldn’t hurt, especially when he was working with skills that he couldn’t remember ever using before in his life. 

When his minute count was up and the timer clicked, they exchanged glances and then he fired a grappling hook across the street. He extended a hand to Barbara. “Wanna swing with me?”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. But next time, I’m going to have my own grappling gun,” she said sternly. “So don’t get any ideas.”

He gingerly wrapped his arm around her waist and let her lean her weight on his shoulder. Without another word, he leaped off the edge of the building with her in tow. 

She didn’t scream, but her gloved fingers dug into his shoulder and neck. She was doing pretty good at this hero thing so far, he thought. 

They reached the floor below the one that Batman had signaled from, and managed to crawl through a broken window without making much noise at all. Once inside, Dick took stock of their surroundings. 

Dull concrete walls, unfinished floors, and no light. Yeah, this place was creepy. He tapped his mask to turn on night vision. That didn’t help the creep factor much at all, however. 

He signaled to Batgirl. They had to go upstairs if they were to reach the point that Batman had signaled from. 

_Crash!_ A sudden sound of breaking glass and metal scraping on metal broke the silence. It came from upstairs. 

“Sounds like they found each other,” he said dryly. 

Barbara hushed him, and together they made their way up to the floor above. They moved cautiously, staying in the deepest shadows, ears peeled for any sign of a trap. They found the stairwell and hurried up, beginning to feel more urgency the longer they delayed. Batman could only keep the Joker occupied for so long before he got suspicious. They had to hurry up and find Barbara’s dad. 

The next floor up had many of the interior walls knocked out, revealing a much wider space. Just as on the previous floor, the entire area was cloaked in shadows and secrets. 

The sounds of an intense scuffle could be heard on the far end of the floor. Dick ached to join the fight there, but he’d promised to help get the commissioner out first. They ran straight to the exterior room where Batman had signaled them.

Sure enough, Commissioner Gordon was tied to a metal folding chair in the middle of the room. A piece of duct tape covered his mouth. Dick winced as he imagined how difficult pulling that off would be, with his famous mustache. Yikes.

They rushed forward and began cutting his bonds, freeing him from the chair. He grunted but was unable to communicate with them at all with his gag in the way. 

Before they finished cutting him free, an alarm went off, and a bright red flashing light appeared above them.

“That’s definitely not a good sign,” he said to Batgirl. “I think Joker knew Batman wouldn’t come alone.”

The wall closest to him exploded. 

Before he could even register what was happening, Barbara tackled him to the ground, protecting his head from the pieces of unfinished wall that rained down on them. He wondered briefly why she’d gone for him rather than her father. Did he really look that fragile? 

When the debris stopped falling, he immediately pushed Batgirl off him. “I’m fine,” he said firmly. “Check on Gordon.”

He ran to the hole in the wall and peeped through. Batman and the Joker battled in the shadows somewhere beyond, barely visible as silhouettes in the void. An orange glow flickered in and out of sight, then suddenly came flying right at Dick.

He hid behind a pillar and shouted for Batgirl to do the same, just as Batman hurtled toward them, his cape on fire.

It seemed that the Joker had been more prepared than usual this time. 

Batman rolled to a stop, quickly recovered, and jumped back to his feet. He nodded to Robin. “Go,” he said. “Get them out of here. I’ll take care of Joker and Sportsmaster.” He ran back through the opening to rejoin the fight. 

Ah, so Sportsmaster was here after all. That did slightly complicate things. 

He tried to focus on helping Batgirl free Gordon the rest of the way, but he couldn’t help but think that Batman might need him. 

An insane laugh cut through the din, and they all froze. Dick looked back though the opening in the wall and found that he could see the scene now, thanks to several banks of flames in various parts of the room. Batman lay in a jumbled heap of cape remnants and black kevlar only a few yards away from the Joker himself, who wielded a crowbar in one hand, and the memory gun in the other.

What could he do? Batman needed help. How could he be in two places at once?

A mental channel opened suddenly in his mind, and he gasped with relief. _M’gann! Are you here?_

_We’re all just outside the building! What do you need us to do?_

He glanced behind him and saw Batgirl help the commissioner up and remove his blindfold.

_Help Batgirl get the commissioner out of here. I’m going to go save Batman’s butt._

He could sense their surprise. _BatGIRL? _Wally said. _Wait, what did I miss?_

In the room ahead of him, the Joker stepped closer to the fallen Bat. He pointed his gun down at his enemy and laughed manically. “Goodbye for real this time, Batsy!”

Batman tried to push himself up, but a heavy discus flew out of the shadows and struck him on the back of the head, and he crumpled again. Sportsmaster strode into the dim light of the window, holding another discus and a javelin. “Stay down, punk,” he sneered. “Be a good bat and forget you were ever a vigilante at all.”

Joker powered up the gun. Even from his hiding place, Dick heard the whine of the device getting ready to fire. Without waiting for the others to get themselves in order, he launched himself into the next room.

He didn’t have time to worry about what the old Robin would do. He couldn’t allow himself to dwell on the distressing lack of memory for what he was supposed to do in situations like this. He wasn’t trying to _be_ anyone particular in that moment. All he knew was that Batman was in trouble, and there was something he could _do_ about it. It gave him a sense of peace. He’d done his absolute best and was going out with a bang.

Or in this case, another memory wipe.

He dropped in front of Batman with a yell, ready to bear the brunt of the memory attack. There was no time for words or regrets. He was going to do what was right. Batman had so much left to remember and fight for. Robin was just a shadow of what he’d been—it was okay. He could start over again. Maybe this time he wouldn’t waste so much time working with the Joker. He closed his eyes and braced for it.

But he’d forgotten that he left the mental channel open to the Team. Questions and worries flooded him as they sensed the danger but didn’t know exactly what was going on. Then a series of crystal clear images cut through the confusion.

A maneuver. One of the many maneuvers they’d developed together after studying fighting with Black Canary. The images showed himself through his Teammates’ points of view: first a ridiculous flip, and then a roll to the side to draw fire from an attacking enemy. He hadn’t known he could even move like that. But the memories showed him moving confidently and smoothly. He could do it.

He opened his eyes and saw the Joker’s surprised face as he started to tighten his grip on the gun’s trigger.

Dick leaped into the maneuver without thought, simply allowing his body to follow the guide of the Team’s memory. He slipped into the skin of that spectral Robin and merged with his other self’s movement.

Joker tracked him with the gun and fired.

Robin flipped as he now knew he could, perfectly replicating the image that the Team had shared with him. He curled his arms in just right to dodge the blast, craning his neck to see where his feet would land.

The memory blast collided with a cement pillar and disappeared into the air harmlessly, missing both him and Batman entirely.

Robin landed lightly in a crouch, then sprinted straight for the Joker before he could recover and recharge the gun.

Something struck him in the stomach. He sprawled over it and fell into an impromptu somersault. He stumbled back to his feet and realized what he’d hit.

Sportsmaster had struck him with the side of his javelin, and was now about to skewer him with it.

Robin neatly dodged the weapon. He tried to keep an eye on the Joker while he engaged Sportsmaster. It didn’t help that he was now sandwiched between the two villains. _Hey guys, could use some backup here!_ He reached out over the mental link and found that his friends were close now. He just had to last a few more seconds… He ducked under the jabbing motions of Sportsmaster’s continued attack.

Wally zipped into the room. “Hey weirdos, maybe you should stop hurting my friends!” He ran past Sportsmaster and plucked the javelin right out of his hands. “I’ll take that!”

Superboy exploded through the wall. Pieces of rebar and concrete sailed into the unfinished room, now flooded with the light from the batsignal which was still pointed right at them. Conner took one look at Sportsmaster and launched himself into the man so hard that he flew all the way across the open floor into the far wall.

“Ooh, that’s gotta hurt,” Artemis said as she climbed up through the broken wall. “But for good measure, take that.” She fired an expanding foam arrow at him, sticking him to the wall.

The Joker lunged right at Dick’s face. He didn’t have time to react before the gun was pressed into his forehead. The Joker grabbed his arm and spun him around, pinning him against his purple suit. He laughed harder. “Don’t anyone move a muscle,” he chuckled. “Or little bird brain here will be mushier than oatmeal.”

Everyone froze. Then the Joker stiffened, and his eyes unfocused. He laughed some more, but it sounded strained this time. The hand holding the gun shook, tapping against Dick’s head uncontrollably.

M’gann appeared out of nowhere, floating two feet behind Joker. Her eyes glowed bright green with fury and intention as she seized control of the Joker’s mind. “You will never use that device again,” she said in a dangerous voice.

_M’gann, no! _Wally cried over their mental link. _His mind is dangerous!_

But Robin didn’t waste the opportunity. He took advantage of the Joker’s catatonic state and twisted around to knock the memory gun out of his hand. It skittered across the concrete floor, away from them both.

M’gann suddenly cried out and fell to the floor, clutching at her head.

“Drop the connection!” Dick yelled. “He’s not worth all this!”

The Joker’s insane laughter began again, even as he remained restrained bodily by M’gann’s power. “Is this what you wanted, Batman?” he tittered. “Hahaha! You’re all broken by one missing link?”

Kaldur entered the room through the broken wall as well. He nodded to Robin, probably to communicate that the commissioner was safe. Then he drew his water bearers and summoned his swords. Wally rushed to help M’gann, and Artemis strung another arrow. Superboy was standing over Batman, who was still on the floor, but apparently recovering.

Robin clenched his gloved fists. “I don’t think we’re broken at all,” he said. “In fact, I’d say we’re just getting started.” Then he punched the Joker in the jaw.

* * *

**Bruce**

He finally managed to shake off the haze of pain in his head and push himself up to his hands and knees. Then Kaldur and Conner were there, helping him stand. He grunted his thanks.

The Team all looked at him expectantly. Robin was pale but proud, and each of the other young people wore expressions varying from exhaustion to elation.

Batman rolled his shoulders. Something caught his eye by his feet. The memory gun, where it had slid after being knocked across the floor by Robin. He bent down and picked it up.

The entire team watched him as he walked up to the unconscious Joker where he was being restrained by Miss Martian’s telekinetic grip. He looked down at the gun in his hands.

It would be so easy to use it on the Joker, rid the world of his insanity and evil with one quick pull of the trigger.

After all, that was what he’d created it for.

Dick didn’t know. He didn’t remember. But even when Bruce had first started working on the project, Dick had let his thoughts be known. He’d been curious about the device from the beginning, and though Bruce had been cryptic about its true function, the kid was too smart for his own good, and managed to put two and two together. And he’d been livid about it.

_“A memory gun, Bruce? Really?!” Dick reached across the work table for the offending weapon. _

_Bruce pulled it away. “It’s the only way to stop people like the Joker. You saw what he did in the attack last week. All the death and chaos he’s left in his wake? I can’t let him go on like this.”_

_Dick slammed his hands down on the work table, disturbing the delicate instruments. “Don’t you get it? This is not gonna help!”_

_“It’s the necessary path.”_

_“No it’s not! If you use this, how are you any better than the Joker?!”_

_“I’m nothing like the Joker!” Bruce rounded on him, but to his credit, Dick stood his ground. “The Joker just killed an entire busload of children and then laughed about it. How dare you compare us?”_

_“How is this weapon much better than killing someone? Sure, they’d still be alive in a technical sense, but you’d completely destroy them in every other way that counts!”_

_“People like the Joker have already destroyed their lives! This just minimizes the effect on the innocent!”_

_“No, think about it, is that really how you want to bring justice?” Dick was practically shouting now. “By becoming as destructive as those in Arkham? Besides, what if it falls into the wrong hands? Can you take responsibility for the chaos that would cause?” _

If only he’d listened to reason back then. Perhaps none of this would have happened.

There was still part of him that wanted nothing more than to pull the trigger and wipe Joker’s mind clean as a newborn baby’s. It called to him that this was right, it was only fair to take revenge after what the Joker had taken from him. After what Dick had suffered this would be the right thing to do. Joker deserved even worse.

And yet, now it disgusted him. He’d sworn not to kill, but how was this any better? He’d seen what it had done to Dick. It wasn’t a solution in the least—in fact, it had only bred more violence and heartache.

Robin was watching him with narrowed eyes. Perhaps he knew what he was being tempted to do. Perhaps he even approved. But one thing was for certain—_his_ Dick Grayson would not have approved. And that was enough for him.

He reared up his hand that held the gun, and slammed the device into the concrete floor, shattering it.

To his astonishment, rather than look disappointed that he didn’t erase the Joker’s mind, Robin just nodded once. He’d made the right choice.


	31. Admission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Dick have a serious talk...
> 
> Closing in on the end now!

**Dick**

The Team went home after the two villains were apprehended, but Batman, Robin, and Batgirl stayed until the authorities showed up, to give their report and hand over the Joker and Sportsmaster securely.

The commissioner was okay, aside from some minor bruises and scrapes (and the fact that a large percentage of his mustache had been torn off by the duct tape gag).

Of course it was bad that the mayor of the city had lost his memory in the main attack, but at least Commissioner Gordon was still around to see to it that the city didn’t fall into chaos. Dick decided he liked him, even if he was a little cranky.

Getting kidnapped by the Joker could be a good excuse for crankiness, he supposed.

He was openly yawning by the time Batman signaled that it was time to leave. It had to be close to four in the morning by now. On top of all the events of the previous day, it felt like he hadn’t slept for a week.

Batgirl followed them away from the scene until Batman stopped and addressed her.

“Batgirl.”

Dick tensed, afraid that this would turn into another argument. Barbara seemed to brace for a reprimand as well.

“You did good out there tonight.”

Both of them gaped at him. “You mean…” Dick began. “You’re not going to tell her to stop?”

Batman huffed. “I doubt it would do any good. Am I right?”

Barbara nodded firmly.

“Then the best I can do is provide supplementary tools and train you so that you’re as prepared as you can be for any situation.”

She raised her chin. “And what conditions do you have? I won’t be treated as a minor sidekick.”

“The only condition I have is that you don’t rush needlessly into danger without letting me or Robin know. We work together as partners, not against each other. Understood?”

“I agree,” she said. Then she glanced at Robin. “And what about him?”

“That’s between him and me to discuss.”

A pit of fear opened in his stomach. _Discuss._ What did Batman possibly want to discuss with him? He’d proven himself, hadn’t he?

But Barbara accepted the answer and nodded. “See you around, Batman, Robin.” Then she raced off into the darkness again.

He followed Batman to the place where the Batmobile was hidden. As he climbed into the passenger seat and waited for Batman to get settled next to him, he found his hands were shaking. He gripped his knees to hide it.

The first part of the journey back to the cave was spent in silence. He got the feeling that Bruce was stewing over how to broach whatever subject he was thinking about.

_Please don’t block me out again,_ Dick thought desperately.

“Good work,” Batman said at last.

Dick looked at him, not sure if this was a strange beginning to a lecture, or if Batman had actually gone and lost his mind.

Batman huffed softly. “You don’t believe me? You did well.”

“Okay…”

A few more minutes passed in awkward silence. Then Batman spoke again. “It’s my fault.”

Robin stared. He’d not heard Batman or Bruce say anything like this before. “What?” His mind raced as he tried to determine what he was talking about. Tonight’s fight? Gordon getting captured?

Batman kept his eyes trained on the road ahead, even though the vehicle was equipped with the best autopilot out there. “All of it.”

Now that was just stupid. Joker had been responsible for most of it. How could Batman possibly think—

“I made the memory device.”

_What? _Time stopped, and a sound like insects buzzed in Dick’s ears. He could hardly comprehend what he was hearing. Batman created the one thing that took everything from him? He shook his head. None of this made sense. He wanted to ask a million questions, but his mouth dried up and he couldn’t form a single word.

“It was meant to be an acceptable alternative to killing the worst villains. If the Joker couldn’t remember his past deeds, he would no longer be able to terrorize the city. I only created it as a last resort.”

He kept shaking his head. “Stop. Why are you telling me this?”

Batman tightened his grip on the wheel. “You need to understand. I can’t—I can’t be trusted with you. It’s my fault your memory was taken.”

Dick shifted away from him and leaned against the passenger window, watching the dark streets slide past. He really didn’t feel anything. He didn’t know how he should feel. His heart beat against a hollow ribcage. He just wanted to crawl into bed and never get up.

But Batman pressed on. “Tonight, when you jumped in front of me like that… I never want you to do that again.”

“What? Why? You can’t just—“

“Because that wasn’t the first time you tried to save my life like that. Last time, it cost you your memories.”

“My memories…” Dick trailed off.

Batman suddenly steered the Batmobile off the main road. He parked in an alley and shut off the engine. He paused for a long moment, staring at his hands on the wheel.

Dick turned to study him better. It was obvious from his posture alone that he was being eaten up by guilt. Why hadn’t he noticed it before? “Is this…” he managed to choke out, “Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?”

Batman didn’t answer for a long moment. Then he reached up and pulled the cowl off. Bruce met his gaze with intense blue eyes filled with pain. He pressed his lips together and nodded once. “I thought if I allowed you back into my life, it would only end up with you getting hurt again, or worse. And I was right.”

Dick scowled. “What, so you’re going to ban me from being Robin again, just because you feel bad, is that it? I don’t care what you say, it’s not that simple. I may not have my memory back, but I know I was born to do this. To help people.”

“I know,” Bruce said. He hesitantly reached out and put a heavy hand on Dick’s shoulder. “I’m not going to ban you from anything, as much as that cowardly part of me may demand it.”

Dick relaxed a small amount, but the storm of despair and anger continued to swirl in Bruce’s eyes. “You’ve been holding all this guilt, haven’t you?” It wasn’t a question, not really. He knew. Perhaps Batman had already been punished enough for his bad decision. “Could you… Could you maybe,” he took a deep breath. “Tell me how it happened. How did I lose my memory, exactly? I want the truth this time.”

Bruce nodded. “I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything.”


	32. Flashback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What really happened that fateful day...

**Bruce**

Of course the mission had gone wrong. It wasn’t Wally’s fault, not really. He kept telling himself that. It wasn’t Wally’s fault, no matter how much he wanted to yell at the impulsive young hero for getting Robin captured by the Joker.

No, Robin had made a calculated decision and stepped in to save Wally, even as he knew it was a trap.

And now Batman was doing the exact same thing.

He should have anticipated that this mission would be too much for the young team. He should have guessed that the Joker would be working with Sportsmaster. He shouldn’t have expected it would be a simple reconnaissance mission.

He’d told the Team to stay put and wait for him to call when the time was right. A lie, but he didn’t want them to rush in if this really was the trap he suspected it might be.

He guided the Batwing to a small clearing and landed expertly. At least he had something that the Joker wouldn’t expect. His last resort.

He picked up the unmarked black case and opened it. The untested memory device rested inside, looking so unobtrusive that it was almost hard to believe how powerful it was. He could hardly believe that this might be the last time he ever had to fight the Joker. He would rescue Robin and then they would leave this awful jungle to go back home to Gotham. He focused on that, and not the cold metal of the device in his hand. It was for a good cause, he told himself, ignoring his unease at how much the device resembled an actual gun. It wouldn’t kill anyone.

Batman put the device in his belt and swept off the plane. It didn’t take him long to track the transmitter hidden in Robin’s suit, which led him to the ruins where Joker was waiting for him. The insane clown’s pet hyenas prowled the perimeter, snarling and yipping hungrily.

“So, Batsy, you took the bait, huh?” Joker stood at the top step of the temple, next to Robin, who was securely bound to one of the stone supports of the temple entry. He was awake, and his eyes widened when he saw Batman, but he couldn’t talk around the gag in his mouth. His hands were bound as well, but he manage to gesture frantically with his fingers. _Go away!_ his fingers said. _It’s a trap!_

_I know, chum_. But he had to do something.

“Had to gag the little songbird,” Joker said with annoyance. “He wouldn’t shut up about how ‘Batman will get you for this!’ and ‘You won’t get away with what you’re planning!’ Ugh, brat.” He shoved his knee into Robin’s stomach, then laughed loudly. “And here you are, just as threatened! But of course, that’s what I was hoping for. Merry Christmas to me!”

Batman stopped at the bottom of the steps and called up to the Joker. “Come down and fight me, Joker,” he challenged. Sometimes that worked with Joker. Other times, not so much.

Today was not one of those days. “Oh, no Batsy, I’ve got to stay up here with your birdie boy. You’ll have to come to me. Or are you afraid of climbing some steps?” he snickered.

Batman could sense the hyenas closing in behind him. All right, Joker wanted him to go up to the top of the temple. He could do that, but he’d do it on his own terms. He kept his hand on the gun at his waist and carefully stalked forward, aware that Joker could have plans to attack him with something or someone else. He scanned either side of the steps, where the shadows were deepest. Nothing moved to signify an ambush, but he still prepared to dart up the stairs at the first sign of trouble.

Robin continued to shake his head and moan through the gag. He didn’t want him to continue. Batman stopped halfway up the steps and reevaluated. What did Robin know? The kid kept urgently waving him away…

He grabbed a batarang and immediately threw it right at Robin. The kid didn’t even flinch, trusting him totally. The sharp point of one wing buried itself safely in the rope near Robin’s hand, within reach.

The steps of the temple exploded. The force of the explosion flung Batman back down toward the rough stones on the forest floor. He landed heavily on one shoulder. That was going to leave a nasty bruise.

He forced himself to roll to the side as large chunks of stone debris rained down after him, wedging into the soft dirt. He dodged the largest pieces and then ducked behind a large broken step that had landed on edge to protect himself.

The hyenas scattered away from the sound of the explosion. Good, one less thing to worry about. Batman risked a glance around his barrier. Joker was gone from his spot at the top of the stairs. Of course.

His hand went to his belt. If there was ever a time to use the memory device, this was it. He pulled it out. Then he leaped out of his hiding place and scanned the area. Dust clouded everything, but then movement flickered to his left. There! He threw another batarang and heard it hit stone. Something slammed into him from behind and he found himself falling forward with a heavy animal on top of him. One of the hyenas must have stalked him. He twisted so that he could punch it in the face until it backed off again.

But the distraction had been all that the Joker needed, because the next thing he knew, the clown was right in front of him and struck him with a crowbar. Hard. In the face.

His nose bled profusely as he stumbled back and tried to recover. Where was Robin? He should have freed himself by now.

He charged up the memory gun and spun around, ready to fire it at the Joker at the first opportunity he got.

But the opportunity never came. The Joker shifted his position to the side and struck his hand with the crowbar. The device tumbled free. Batman tried to catch it with his other hand, but the gun slipped through his fingers.

The Joker lunged forward and caught the weapon easily. “What’s this then? Aha, the device I’ve heard rumors of!”

Batman jabbed his gloved fingers toward Joker’s throat. The Joker jumped back and swung his crowbar again, backhanded, against Batman’s already bruised arm.

Batman fell back to reassess the situation. Joker knew about the device. But did he know what it did? At this point it was unclear. And now he had it in his hand.

“Let’s see how well it works, shall we?” The Joker raised the gun and leveled it right at Batman’s head. His hyenas circled around behind Batman’s flank, surrounding him. There was no easy route out of this.

“Joker,” he said keeping his voice as calm as possible. “Give me the device now.”

Joker twirled his crowbar like a baton in his other hand as he kept the memory gun trained on Batman. “Nah, pass. I’d rather just use it. What joys have you come up with this time? The rumors say it will wipe your memory clean. Is that true? If so, bye-bye Batsy!” He blew a kiss, and pulled the trigger.

A red and black streak flew over Batman’s head from one of the boulders behind him. A lithe figure, somewhat worse for wear but still moving well.

Robin.

The gun went off, but instead of striking Batman in the face, the glow of the memory beam washed over Robin.

It hit him like a ball of electricity, and he screamed.

Batman roared to him. “Robin, it’s a mental attack! Use your block!” He had no idea if it would help. It hadn’t been tested. It wasn’t safe. His thoughts were consumed with fear and anger and horror all at once. What had he done? What had Robin been thinking?

While Robin struggled on the ground, holding his head and screaming, Batman turned to the Joker, who was watching the display with interest. “You!” he shouted, and lunged for the clown.

But a snap at his heels and a tug at his neck held him back. The hyenas pinned his cape in their sharp teeth. He kicked at them, but emboldened, they swarmed him and grabbed his arms before he could dig into his utility belt for another weapon.

The Joker tilted his head back and laughed uproariously. “This is too good!I got the kiddo? I couldn’t have planned this, it’s perfect!”

He wanted to break that hideously pale, painted face. He struggled to free himself from the beasts. They tore his cape, bit his limbs, and snapped at his hands. He bled from a dozen bite marks and slashes. And still the Joker remained tauntingly just out of reach.

Meanwhile, Robin slowly stopped his uncontrollable convulsions, instead devolving into panicked gasps and half-sobs. He shook his head and looked up.

Batman couldn’t tell if the boy recognized him, so he reached out, ignoring Joker’s laughter. He wanted to speak, to say Dick’s name, but he couldn’t get the words out past the lump of panic in his throat. He just reached out a hand, hoping that there was something left of his Robin in that terrified, traumatized teenager.

But Robin whimpered and threw himself backwards, frantically crawling away. There was not a flicker of recognition in his expression or reaction. Only revulsion and terror.

His Robin, Dick Grayson, was gone forever. The horror of it sank into his very bones. He withdrew his hand and yelled his anguish to the night sky. He forgot about attacking the Joker, he forgot about everything in that moment except the pure pain and rage he felt, the guilt that pinched in his chest, and the shock of disbelief. How could he have allowed it to happen?

The hyenas, excited by his intense reaction, leaped for him again. He was suddenly filled with panic. He had to get Robin to safety. He wouldn’t know what to do, or who to trust, he might not even know how to fight and defend himself! The hyenas could tear him apart—

Except the monsters were only attacking him. He’d lost sight of both the Joker and Robin. Where were they? He yelled for both of them, but he was swarmed by the pack of beasts until any hope of tracking either person was long, long lost.

He fought with every last scrap of anger left in him, until the hyenas finally fled, tails between their legs.

He fell to his knees, bleeding and spent, and stared after them into the dark jungle. Their insane yips and howls continued as they ran into the distance.

And then, for the first time since he’d brought eight-year-old Dick Grayson home to live with him, he was truly alone.

* * *

**Dick**

The memory was sharp, so much clearer and precise than any of those his friends had given to him. Dick blinked back tears and swam up out of the images until he found himself back on the cot in the medbay of Mount Justice.

He sat up and wiped his eyes under his dark glasses.

Martian Manhunter stood next to him. He rested a green hand on Dick’s head and patted once.

Batman also sat up from his cot where he’d been laying head to head with Dick’s cot so that Martian Manhunter could reach both of them and form the mental connection for the memories to flow across.

He’d heard Bruce’s verbal version of the events two nights prior, sitting in the Batmobile after that fateful rescue of Commissioner Gordon. But this connection allowed so much more to flow across the mental link, emotions, thoughts, and every sensory detail. He could experience the moment right with Batman.

Now he knew. He was trying to protect his mentor and guardian when he jumped in front of that memory blast. He’d done it, too. He’d saved Batman.

It explained why Bruce carried so much guilt after that. It’s why he’d been so reluctant to help him regain his memory until now: He was afraid. The great Batman was afraid that Dick would hate him if he knew the whole truth.

Dick was confused and angry, yes, but he was also pretty sure that he didn’t hate Bruce. He’d done what he thought was right. It was completely misguided, yes, but he hadn’t been the one to pull the trigger.

The Martian stepped out of the room, probably to give them some privacy and allow them to recover from the emotionally exhausting memory.

Dick turned to Batman. “Thank you,” he managed to say. “I needed to see it for myself. I really needed that. So thank you.”

Batman glanced toward the closed door of the medbay, then pulled his cowl down.

Dick followed his lead and removed his sunglasses.

“Did it help you recall anything?” Bruce asked in a low voice. “Does anything seem familiar at least?”

Dick shook his head. “Not yet. But M’gann said that there was some kind of wall in my mind. She wanted me to talk to you about it, actually.”

“A wall?” Bruce frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, there’s this weird sad song in my head, and a lady singing. It’s constantly there, but I only notice it when I focus on it. M’gann couldn’t see past it, like it might be holding some of my memories back there. I don’t know, she wasn’t able to figure it out. But if you have any ideas…” He ended with a shrug. “I dunno, it sounds silly when I say it out loud.”

But Bruce was smiling faintly as he stared down at him.

“What?”

“A mental wall, hm?” He shifted his gaze to the wall, as if looking right through it. “Could it be?”

“Come on B, tell me! What is it?”

Bruce didn’t answer right away. Then, to Dick’s utter astonishment, he began to sing in a rough, unpracticed voice:

_“Sweet dreams are winging,_

_Like birds they are singing,_

_And you are the star in my sky._

_Remember your nest dreams_

_They’ll be all your best dreams_

_And there you will learn how to fly.”_

Dick’s head suddenly throbbed. He gasped and bent over, pressing his hands to his temples. “Ow, why does it hurt?”

“Dick? What hurts?” Bruce got to his feet and hurried to crouch in front of him. He pulled one of his hands into his own and squeezed it. “Are you remembering something?”

He wasn’t even sure. It was as though Bruce’s quiet, tremulous song had cut through a nerve and suddenly opened him up to a pain he didn’t know he was supposed to be feeling. But it gave him an idea. “Bruce, how do you know that song?”

“It was your mother’s favorite lullaby,” Bruce said quickly, still holding his hand. “You sang it for me when you were small. When I taught you how to block mentally, you decided to use it to protect yourself from telepathic attacks. I just use my times tables. Do you want to go home and rest?”

Dick gripped Bruce’s forearms. “No, get Martian Manhunter back in here! I want to see more. I think… I think I’m ready to remember.”

“Already? But that last one took so much out of you… Which memory do you want this time?”

He took a deep breath. “Bruce, will you show me the memory of what happened the day my parents died?”

Bruce froze. Even through his stoic mask, a flurry of emotions passed across his face—worry, fear, frustration, and then sad disbelief.

Dick pushed further, unwilling to give up now. “Wally told me that each hero has a turning point in their lives, large or small, often borne out of traumatic experiences. Alfred said that all our memories make us who we are—the good ones _and_ the bad ones. If that’s true, I’m incomplete without them. And if it’s connected to the song in my head, I want to know, Bruce. I need to know.”

Bruce slowly nodded. “Very well. If that’s what you really want. I’ll do it for you.”

Relief flooded him. He smiled back at Bruce. “Thank you.”

***

Back on their respective cots, with the cowl and glasses back in place, the Dynamic Duo settled into comfortable positions.

Martian Manhunter once again stood between them. “M’gann told me a bit about your mental wall,” he said calmly. “If it does contain some part of your memories from before, it may be very painful to break through the wall. Are you sure you want to do this now?”

“Absolutely,” Dick said, forcing confidence into his voice. “I’ve needed this for a long time. Let’s do this.” He glanced over at Batman. “Together?”

“Together.”

They closed their eyes, and entered the memory.


	33. Origin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our memories are part of what make us who we are... and Robin is no different.

**Bruce**

It was a cold night in Gotham, but the warm and cheery lights of the circus helped to keep everything rosy and full of life. Bruce Wayne, however, was distracted. He hadn’t wanted to leave Gotham defenseless, but Alfred had insisted.

“You need a night off, the same as anyone else, Master Bruce,” the butler had chided, straightening Bruce’s flannel scarf around his neck. “You’ve been going at this Batman thing for too many days on end. You need to think of your public standing, at the very least. This performance is entirely for charity, so I want none of your usual excuses. Besides, I’m quite certain you’ll flush out some case or another tonight. You always manage it somehow.”

And now, as he walked between the colorful tents with his hands stuffed in his pockets for warmth, Bruce was thankful that Alfred had been so insistent. He hadn’t gone to a circus since he was a child, and Haly’s was one of the best. It had traveled Europe for years before beginning its current tour of the Americas. World famous acrobats, an excellent reputation for treating its animals well, and death defying stunts of all sorts—he supposed it was better than going to some stuffy banquet and pretending to care about conversations with vapid socialites.

He admired the posters everywhere that hyped the various acts: trained elephant Zitka, lions who jumped through flaming hoops, and the famous Flying Graysons themselves, an entire family of skilled acrobats and trapeze artists who were known for flying without a net in their dangerous final act. He cocked his head as he admired the colorful poster. Perhaps Batman could learn a thing or two from them.

Inside the tent, he settled in his seat, ready to enjoy the show. He saw a small boy peeking out from the far tent flap, dressed in the colorful regalia of an acrobat. Perhaps he was one of the Flying Graysons. He smiled at the child, who realized he was being watched and quickly backed away and disappeared behind the flap.

Most of the show went by without a hitch, each performance flawless and astounding in its own way.

He found himself relaxing. He allowed himself to forget the cares of Batman and the woes of Gotham for a few hours. He almost felt like a kid again.

Finally, the star act of the night was announced—The Flying Graysons were about to come out and fly for the audience. Bruce edged forward on his seat, eager to see their technique up close for himself.

They were marvelous. The lights followed them as they flipped and defied gravity from one swinging trapeze to another. There were even several tricks that showcased their youngest member, the small boy he’d seen peeking in earlier. He was as precise and flamboyant as the rest of his family.

Then, after a brief clown break, it was time for the finale. The net was taken away, and the acrobats regrouped on the tallest platforms. Bruce watched with interest as the boy tried to join them, but one of the men in the group, presumably his father, shook his head and made him sit down to watch the act without participating. _Too dangerous for a child,_ Bruce thought.

The spotlight tracked the group as the first flier leaped off the platform gripping the trapeze. He swung all the way across to the far side of the ring and back, switching to hang from his knees. When he reached the first platform again, he reached out his hands and two more of the group joined him, forming a magnificent shape on the single bar. This continued until the only two people remaining on the platform were the boy and a woman who seemed to be his mother. She waved brightly to the crowd, then leaped out at the precisely right time to be caught by the outstretched hands of her family on the single trapeze as it swung close.

She never made it.

There was a horrible _snap_, and all of them were falling. Bruce leaped to his feet, realizing what was happening, but there was nothing he could do.

They all collided with the unforgiving ground.

No one breathed in that moment. Then someone screamed, and the whole audience fell into chaos.

Bruce stared in horror at the tangle of broken limbs and unmoving bodies. It was unthinkable. The trapeze lines would have been double and triple checked by the fliers themselves. The only way for something like this to happen was if someone had tampered with them, right? He shook his head. Now was not the time for analysis. He could return later as Batman and get more info.

At least they’d all gone down together.

But no, that wasn’t quite right. A small figure climbed down the rope ladder as fast as his arms and legs would carry him. The child, the youngest Grayson, leaped to the ground and ran a few steps toward the mangled bodies before collapsing in utter shock.

Bruce watched from his spot in the stands as most of the audience fled the tent. The ringmaster ran to call for paramedics, but Bruce could see that of the group, most had instantly died. One man, not the boy’s father, still clung to life, but who knew if he’d survive the night?

The boy shuddered and hid his face from the gruesome sight.

A strange thing was happening to Bruce’s heart. It was hurting for that boy. Though the circumstances were different, he saw the same trauma mirrored in his memory of a dark Gotham alleyway.

He _knew _that feeling. He knew it better than perhaps anyone else in this city.

He climbed over the barrier and hopped down into the ring. He approached the child and knelt next to him. He draped his coat over his thin, shaking shoulders. Then he just sat there with the boy as he shook and gasped for air, encouraging him to breathe steadily.

After a long while, the paramedics came and took away the injured and the dead. Still the boy stared at the spot where his family had fallen, even as several people sprinkled sand over the patches of blood.

Bruce gave the boy a gentle pat on the back and then got up to seek out the ringmaster, Jack Haly himself. The poor man seemed nearly as shaken as the Grayson boy. Bruce introduced himself and got right to the point. “Look, I know you’re dealing with a lot right now, but I have to ask—the boy, does he have any other family?”

Haly rubbed a hand over his eyes. “That’s Dick. Richard Grayson, that is. And no, he has no other family that I know of. He’ll probably be put into foster care or placed in a group home, though if I could keep him here I would. If it wasn’t too painful for him, that is. I… I don’t know.”

Bruce rested a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I will help however I am able,” he said solemnly.

He went back to the place where the boy—Dick Grayson—was still huddled up under his large overcoat. He crouched in front of him. “Dick, can you hear me?”

Dick shuddered.

“My name is Bruce. I know you might not remember the details of everything that happened tonight, but you will remember that awful moment, and… and it will hurt every time you think of it. I know.”

The boy lifted his eyes at last and met his gaze. The sheer despair he saw there wrecked his heart.

“I’ll do my best to help you, I promise,” he said, wondering what the hell he was getting himself into here.

“Why?” The small voice cracked.

Feeling reckless and very un-batman-like, he wrapped an arm around Dick’s shoulders. “Because I didn’t have anyone to turn to when it happened to me.”

The boy’s tears spilled over, and suddenly he barreled into Bruce with the tightest hug ever. Bruce had no idea someone so small could have such a grip. He grunted in surprise, then laid his hand on the boy’s dark hair, gingerly stroking it in the way he vaguely remembered his father used to do. “I’ve got you, chum,” he said softly. “I’ve got you.”

**Dick**

The memory hurt. It ached deep in his heart, like someone was physically squeezing his insides. When he saw his family fall to their doom, he gasped sharply and tried to pull out of the memory, but he found he couldn’t move. He was stuck watching the scene play out in its entirety.

Then something happened. He forgot that he was a specter in Bruce’s own memory of the event, and for a brief, confusing moment, he was in his own body, starting at the gruesome scene from his own past self’s eyes. When his younger body screamed, so did he.

Then he snapped back into Bruce’s memory of the event.

_What was that?_

He could feel Bruce’s surprise over the mental link as well.

But the memory continued, and he remained firmly seated in Bruce’s perspective. That is, until the very end, when Bruce knelt beside him and promised to help him. His vision suddenly blurred.

He blinked up at the stranger, who was saying such kind and generous things to him. He shuddered with horror again and again, unable to stop the tremors of cold and fear even with the warm overcoat about his shoulders.

And while he didn’t understand everything that had happened that night, he knew that of all people he could trust Bruce Wayne.

_Bruce, why am I seeing you through my own eyes?_

Before he could get an answer, the memory shifted again. Time flew by, and they zipped past when he helped bring Zucco to justice for murdering his parents, past the moment he’d been sworn into the hero world by Batman himself, meeting Superman for the first time, and all the flurry of changes that came along with moving into Wayne Manor and living a new life there.

Everything stopped suddenly, on one specific memory. He was back in Bruce’s mind again, which helped ground him and deaden the pain and shock of seeing his parents die for the first time… again.

He forced himself to pay attention. Where was Bruce now? Why had he pulled up this new memory?

With a start, Dick recognized the door in front of them as belonging to his own bedroom in the manor. He was sucked into the memory fully, and he forgot his questions.

**Bruce **

He opened the door a crack and peered through.

A small form lay on top of the bed’s coverlet in a patch of morning sunshine, sniffling and shaking with quiet sobs.

Bruce pushed open the door and went inside, making enough noise that he wouldn’t startle the poor kid. “Hey, kiddo,” he said gently. He sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at Dick, who was clutching his pillow tight. He didn’t know what to do.

Ever since he’d first arrived at the manor a few days ago, Dick had been withdrawn and refused to open up much to him or Alfred. He knew the kid had to be hurting, but he had barely spoken a word, aside from “thank you” and “good night.” He had tried to eat at mealtimes, though it was obvious his heart wasn’t in it. He chewed mechanically like he didn’t even taste the food. He always immediately went back to his room afterwards, and spent most of his time staring at the wall where he’d hung his poster of the Flying Graysons.

It couldn’t be a healthy way to cope, but then again, what did Bruce know about that? He just knew that he wanted to make the pain go away but he didn’t know how. If there was anything he could do to help, Dick wasn’t cluing him in on it.

He realized that Dick was whispering something to himself, some kind of rhyme from the cadence of it. But he was just moving his lips without much air behind it, so Bruce couldn’t hear him.

He rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder and was relieved when he didn’t shake it off or move away. “What are you saying, Dick?”

Dick tensed and didn’t look up. Then softly, he said, “She used to sing to me every night when I went to bed, or whenever I was sick. Always the same song. It was her favorite. My dad always said he loved to hear her voice.”

Bruce’s breath caught in his throat. Was Dick finally opening up to him? “What song?”

“You wouldn’t know it. It’s a traditional song in my mom’s family. I think… I think she might have changed some of the words.”

Bruce squeezed his shoulder a bit. “Would you sing it for me?”

Then Dick pulled away from him. He curled on the corner of the massive bed, resting his back against the headboard. Out of reach.

Bruce sighed. He’d thought that perhaps the kid was actually ready to talk, to move forward and learn how to cope with everything that had happened. But if he was just going to close off again—

“Okay.” The quiet voice cut through Bruce’s thoughts and sent him reeling internally. He held his breath, afraid to startle the boy into taking it back.

But Dick had made up his mind. He settled himself self-consciously, then began to sing.

It was quiet and sad, but his clear young voice pierced through the melancholy cloud around him and seemed to glow in the air.

Bruce had to lean closer to hear his words. He listened, still holding his breath, as the words reached deep inside him and tugged on his heart…

**Dick**

This time, he immediately recognized when the switch happened. One second, he was lost in Bruce’s memory of the time a 9-year-old boy sang a sad lullaby to him. And then, in an instant, he _was_ that boy.

And it hurt. It hurt so bad. He relived that anguish and empty despair tenfold. Each word he sang pounded like a nail through his heart.

Tears spilled over as he sang his mother’s song, the one she would hum to him every night, the words she would croon almost as a blessing over him. Her hands would caress his hair, his cheek. When he felt sick, her cool palm would rest on his forehead, or she would lean over and press her lips to his face.

His father would fret and ask if he needed a doctor, and scoop him up and lay him on top of their little bed.

In the morning, when he felt better, he’d wake to the smell of bacon and eggs, and his mother’s voice humming over the camp stove where she cooked. His father would laugh at his mussed-up hair and ruffle it even more.

Then they’d eat together and be thankful for the little they had—family and freedom.

Before his first few performances, his mother sang softly in his ear as she hugged him reassuringly. He could do anything with her song at his back. Between his father’s encouraging words and his mother’s faith in him, he could soar as far or as high as a bird.

_“There you will learn how to fly.”_

He realized suddenly what these images were. Bruce had never seen him growing up and spending time with family. This wasn’t something that Martian Manhunter was channeling to him. No, this was something more precious and wonderful—his own memories.

Anguish morphed into physical pain in his head. He lost sight of the beautiful memories, and when he tried to run after them and catch hold of them again, he found himself falling out of his mind. He crashed back into his body on the medbay cot.

Tears blurred his vision when he opened his eyes. He could barely make out the martian’s concerned face leaning over him.

Bruce also pressed close to him. “Robin, can you hear me? What happened, J’onn? You said it would be safe for him!”

“I did warn you both about the possibility that the memories would bring pain.”

“Robin, answer me, can you hear me?”

Dick laughed through his tears. He wiped them away from under his glasses and sat up. Batman bent next to him, with his gloved hand gripping like a vice on his upper arm. That would probably leave a bruise. “It’s all right, B. It hurt, but I think I remembered something on my own.”

J’onn nodded. “If what Batman showed you was a traumatic memory, it could have jarred loose the block, and allowed something to sneak through—“

“Yes,” he said slowly. “I think that I broke through the block for a moment there.”

Bruce squeezed his arm and then let go, standing up suddenly. “Are you sure?”

Dick closed his eyes and thought carefully back through what he’d seen. Sure enough, the images of his mother and father alive and well remained. He hadn’t imagined it. He _remembered_ them. “Yeah,” he said breathlessly. “I remember my parents before any of this happened. Before I met you. Before… the accident.”

Even under the cowl, Bruce seemed surprised and relieved. “That’s good,” he said, and his simple words carried an undercurrent of warmth that Batman rarely exhibited. “That’s very good.”

Dick nodded, not fully trusting his voice to make it past his tight throat. It was good.

It wasn’t everything. He needed more. He longed to see more memories of his parents, of Bruce, of all his friends through the lost years of his life. He still felt out of place and he wondered if he’d ever regain every single memory he’d lost. But now he knew it was possible. This was a road back to something familiar, and right now, that was enough to give him hope.

Bruce nodded in return, showing that he understood. “Welcome back, Robin. Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter left! Depending on if I'm able to record it decently, I might also share a link to Robin's Lullaby song that I wrote so you all can listen to it!
> 
> Thanks to you who have stuck with me so long on this story (and also to those who may be just now discovering it). All the kudos and comments have been incredible, so thank you. :)


	34. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a few bittersweet vignettes of Dick's journey back to normal life through the eyes of his friends and family. BONUS - Robin's Lullaby song is linked in the notes!

**Barbara**

“No, stop that, you’re going to mess me up!”

Barbara laughed at Dick’s weak protests and kept shoving his shoulder so that he couldn’t fully control his Mario Kart vehicle. She took the opportunity to swerve her kart around his and steal an item box out from under his nose.

They were in Dick’s bedroom, this time without Wally. Just the two of them. Unchaperoned. Her cheeks heated slightly, but she ignored it, chalking it up to the intense video game stint.

Dick suddenly went completely slack. His mouth hung open and eyes glazed over.

“Dick? You okay?” She hit pause in the game, as he’d allowed his controller to slip out of his grip. She waved a hand in front of his face.

No reaction.

She let out an even breath. She could deal with this. It had happened a few times recently as they hung out and did ordinary things like they used to do. Alfred had explained things as best he could, reassuring her that it was for the best, really. Dick was remembering something. If more memories were triggered while he was in a safe environment like home, the easier it would be once he had to return to school and enter the public eye again. For now, he had a few more days to get his feet under him—and his mind in order.

It was an agonizingly slow process, but he was improving. These little “memory episodes” happened several times a day. Some were brief and only took a second as he blinked a few times. She suspected that he dealt with partial memories a lot—when he stiffened suddenly or shook his head, he was feeling something akin to deja vu. He sometimes got frustrated by the incompleteness of a memory, and then his friends had to deal with his crankiness or despondence for a time. But every time he managed to rally himself and stubbornly find ways to laugh about it.

Other times, he stayed in his mind too long or was so overwhelmed by a stronger memory that he forgot to breathe. When that happened once with her there, she had to shake him out of it before he fainted.

This time, she waited it out, as he didn’t seem to be panicking. Hopefully that meant it wasn’t a bad memory. He’d tell it to her after he recovered. That was the rule he and Bruce had set up. Talk about it immediately to someone trusted, even if he didn’t understand it.

She was honored to be included in that circle, even if she probably wouldn’t have been before she found out about Robin.

She picked up her phone and scrolled while she waited. The social media feeds for Gotham were trending with the normal gossip. No more panic about the Joker or mass memory loss—though those that had been mind wiped after Dick had not recovered much yet. She knew that Alfred and Bruce were keeping a close record of the circumstances that seemed to trigger the memories for him, in the hopes that they could find some kind of pattern that would be helpful for others.

At last Dick gasped and shook his head, signifying that the memory had ended. When he’d regained some of his composure, he grinned at her. “That was a good one.”

“Oh?”

“It was the day I met you when I was a kid.”

“You still are a kid.”

He stuck out his tongue.

“See?” She reached over to try to grab it, but he quickly dodged. She flopped her hands back down to her controller. “Tell me about it?”

“I had recently gotten over a cold, and I was antsy. Drove Bruce nuts with sliding down the bannisters and all that, you know. So he took me with him when he went to have coffee with the commissioner to talk about some security concerns in an area of the city where he owned some real estate or something like that.”

She smiled. “I think I remember this.”

“Turns out, the commissioner had brought his daughter along because he had to pick her up from a school event first, and he didn’t have time to drop her off at home first. So we took the corner booth of the cafe to ourselves while the two of them discussed the grown-up things. You wanted to play a game, like tic-tac-toe on a napkin or something, but I refused. I wanted to know all about you, and I started interrogating you, almost like Batman.”

She covered a laugh with her hand. “And now it all makes sense why, since you were living with him the whole time!”

He laughed with her. “Still, it was kind of rude!”

“I really didn’t mind. Do you remember what you said when we parted ways?” It was a little risky to ask, but she tried to keep her voice light in the hope that he wouldn’t panic if he couldn’t remember.

He frowned. “I don’t think the memory went that far… Wait. You said you weren’t sure about me at first, but that it turned out to be a delight to meet me!” His expression turned mischievous. “And I countered that it was a _light_ to meet you, and that it would be a _relight_ if we could see each other again.”

“Bad wordplay from the beginning,” she sighed in an exaggerated fashion. “Our relationship was built on puns and imaginary words.”

They both laughed again.

“So what’s next?” he asked. “For Batgirl, I mean.”

She fiddled with the controller in her hand. “I don’t know. I want to keep doing something good for this city. I want to help people in real, tangible ways. And I really like the freedom and anonymity that vigilante work allows. Obviously, if my dad found out, he wouldn’t be happy about all this. But Batman did offer to train me properly, so I can work with you guys. I’m going to take him up on that.”

“You know,” he said slowly. “There might just be a spot for you on the team. I’d have to clear it with the others, but I think you’d fit in just fine. And you already know Wally.”

She considered. Joining the team with Robin and the gang would be a huge step for Batgirl. And together, they could be involved in bigger missions she wouldn’t be able to do by herself here in Gotham. “I’ll think about it,” she said. “There’s only so much of Wally I can take at a time.”

“Fair enough.”

“Now, can we get back to me beating you in Mario Kart?”

He snatched up his controller again. “In your dreams!”

* * *

**Wally**

“Come on, man, why do we got to help with raking leaves?” Wally whined. “I’ve already got blisters!”

Dick glanced at him, unimpressed. “We’ve been out here less than five minutes, Wal-mart. Besides, I’ve been cooped up inside too much lately. Some fresh air will do us both good.”

Wally groaned and grabbed his rake again. They were in the gardens of the Wayne estate, helping Alfred with the late-fall leaf management. “Don’t you guys hire a team of yard workers for this stuff? Heck, why don’t you just hire a lawyer and sue the trees for having the audacity to de-leaf themselves all over your lawn?”

Dick snorted at that. “It’s to make Alfred happy. Now shut up and rake.”

They worked in comfortable silence for a few minutes, but of course Wally couldn’t stand the quiet for long. “Soooo,” he said. “How was your first day back at school?”

“It was fine, really. Bruce took me around the school over the weekend so that I could get over some of the memory triggers before jumping in. I’m meeting with the school nurse and counselor every day this week to make sure that I can handle it. They’ve also taken me out of a couple of classes in the middle of the day so I have time to breathe in between it all.”

Wally stopped to lean on his rake. “And? How did it _really_ go?”

Dick paused for a moment, as if considering how to divert Wally’s attention from the topic at hand. Then he deflated. “Yeah, you got me. It was pretty bad. Everyone was staring at me, like I’d died and come back a ghost. Lots of whispering, pointing when they thought I wasn’t looking, and even some weird comments from people who pretended to be my friends from ‘before’. I’m ninety percent sure they were joshing me.”

“Dude, that’s rough.”

Dick resumed raking at his little pile of leaves. “Yeah, and the worst part is, I’m not even sure which people actually were my friends. It helps that Barbara’s there, but we’re not in all the same classes, since she’s a grade older, but still. I hate it.” His rake hit a rock, tripping him up. Rather than work around it, he threw aside his rake and finished by kicking at the pile, scattering all his hard work again. He sank down to sit in the demolished mound. “Sorry, I guess I just had to get that off my chest.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Wally said, and started to rake up Dick’s leaves again. “Rant all you like.”

Dick picked up a maple leaf and began stripping the dry foliage off the center stem. “I can’t talk to Alfred or Bruce. They’ll just pull me back out again, and I don’t want that. I can do this, I know I can.” He tossed the bare skeleton of the leaf aside, allowing it to be raked away. “I just wish people wouldn’t act so strange around me all the time.”

Wally smacked him gently with the rake. “All right, enough wallowing. I’ll race you to see who can rake up a bigger pile in five minutes!” It was a longshot, but maybe a little bit of fun could fix Dick’s sour mood. He wiggled his eyebrows up and down in earnest, hoping to garner some kind of reaction out of his friend.

“You have super speed.”

“Yes, and as you’ve said many times before, the attention span of a mosquito. Let’s go!”

Dick grinned at last, picking up his rake. “You’re on.”

* * *

**Bruce**

“A mission? What’s it this time, something bigger than a cat stuck in a tree, I hope?”

Bruce pulled on the cowl, very conscious of Robin bouncing around his heels like an overexcited puppy. “It’s a standard escort run, you’re just assisting a high-security prison transfer.”

“Still, I’m glad to get back out there with everyone! What’s the run-down?”

Bruce smirked to himself as he adjusted his gauntlets. “You’ll hear the rest along with the team.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Ready?”

“Duh, ‘course I am.” Robin raced ahead toward the Zeta portal. Then he froze, his face blank.

Another memory. Bruce hated to see how suddenly they took him, because if that happened on mission—while driving a bike, or in the middle of a skirmish—those flashbacks could be deadly.

“Dick, can you hear me?” He didn’t often pull him out of the memories, but this morning was not a good time for them.

The kid shook himself in what could have been described as a shudder. “Eeysh, yeah, I’m here. Just a memory about a time I Zeta’d into the mountain to find it under siege by elemental robots. You know, Red Tornado’s siblings. We all survived, but it was a close one.”

Bruce nodded, remembering that particular breach of security. It seemed like eons ago, even though it was only shortly before Robin had been captured by the Joker. “The mountain is much more secure now, after the League took a look at it. That won’t happen again.”

“Yeah… Yeah, okay.” He straightened his shoulders. “I’ll meet you there, Batman!” He gave a cheeky salute and walked backwards into the portal. “To Mount Justice!”

His body disappeared in the flash of light that took him.

Batman just shook his head. He started to follow, but Alfred’s voice stopped him.

“Master Bruce, are you sure he’s ready to go out into the field again, so soon?” The even tone betrayed no worry, no disapproval. But it was a valid question that deserved an answer.

“Robin has been prepping for this day for a month. He’s been on patrols with me under close supervision, and he’s proven that he can handle himself well out there. He’s ready. It’s time to let him get out there again, especially with the help of his team. They’ll protect him better than anyone.”

Alfred nodded, accepting the explanation. “And you? Are _you_ ready?”

Bruce grunted. That was the hardest part in all of this.

All he really wanted to do was wrap Dick up in a fluffy blanket and lock him in his bedroom. No more fighting, no more hero work. Make him keep his head down, avoid the attention of any more crazed villains. Was it too much to ask for him to live a normal, relatively safe life as the ward of billionaire Bruce Wayne? He could be a knowledge bowl and mathlete competitor. A star student. A gymnast in his spare time, even. Bruce just couldn’t bear the pain of losing him. Not again. If that happened, he wasn’t sure what he would do.

He’d walked the line between justice and revenge many times before—tempted to cross it and feed his darker impulse to kill. It wasn’t who he wanted to be, but he sensed that pull. When he’d lost Dick to the Joker’s attack, he’d begun to spiral. He never wanted that to happen again.

But Robin was back. The light to his night. More than a sidekick, he was a partner, ready to be relied on to lift him up in times of need. He was always there, tugging him back from the brink, keeping his path in the light.

He couldn’t explain the feeling that welled up in his chest whenever he thought about how far Robin had come, and how much he’d triumphed over. He was truly strong in ways that Bruce had never noticed before.

And as long as Dick was alive and fighting his own battles to stay in the light, Bruce could fight on against the darkness as well.

With a start, he realized that Alfred was still waiting for his answer. _Was he ready for Dick to be Robin again?_

“No,” he said at last. “But he’ll keep me in line.”

He turned and entered the Zeta tube after Robin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE! To show my appreciation for all your lovely comments, I recorded a version of Robin's Lullaby from the story which you can [stream or download here.](https://soundcloud.com/rachel-kimberly-hastings/a-robins-lullaby/s-GdTNoLmXovy)DISCLAIMER, I'm not a professional singer, so it's just a little rough around the edges. Kind of how I imagine how Mary Grayson might have sung it to baby Dick. :) <3
> 
> And that's a wrap! This was the first fanfic I ever wrote, so it feels good to officially finish posting it! Thanks for reading!


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